But He Promised Her Forever
by WithoutHesitation
Summary: Sequel to 'Doesn't Share.' Beetlejuice's most precious memories are stolen, in some idea of divine retribution. What happens to Lydia when she summons him, not knowing he no longer remembers her? There's nothing protecting her from him now... Is there?
1. What?

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Okay. A lot of people probably are gonna be, torn, about this story arc. But it's been heading this way all along, the whole thing written out in my head long before it ever went to ink, so to speak. If you didn't run away at the synopsis, I think you'll be okay. Rest assured, I _am _a big believer in happily ever afters. But they have to be earned. That's part of the deal. And a true faery tale ending is never easy to earn… That being said, my idea of a faery tale ending? Well. Let's leave it there. In the end, it had to be done… No! Don't run away! Read on… This is not the end. Just a short beginning...

----------------

Back at the Shocking Maul, once again, and Lydia was in heaven. The silk was warm as butter under her fingers, rippling like water and soft as a breath. A brilliant shade of red, bringing to mind less the color of blood, than the color of some indescribable feeling that would make her heart pound faster, and her fingertips tremble. She wanted it… It would be a dream to wear, if a nightmare to sew. She wanted it like anything…

And there was everything that stood between her and the perfect material, marked right overhead. A price per yard that made her brain itch. She stood there with her lower lip held between her teeth, eyes fixed longingly on her prize, only to finally surrender, and turn away.

Beetlejuice had already bought her silk twice now this year, once for Halloween, and once for Valentine's Day. She couldn't ask him again. Even if her old poncho was developing the usual wear and tear of any fancy material, relegated to everyday use. Even if this silk was a hundred times better than anything she'd worn yet… Albeit with a price tag to match.

Just to humor herself, she lingered over less expensive rolls of material, half as soft, half as brilliantly dyed, and found she could afford none of them either. There was a wonderful Egyptian Linen, intended to be sold to the discerning mummies of the neitherworld, and while this was certainly soft enough, and a good deal stronger, the color was just far too faded to capture the red that she knew Beetlejuice loved. And it didn't matter anyway, because that too was out of her price range.

To be honest, it was all out of her price range, and she finally accepted this with a sigh, adjusting the silks she already wore, and examining herself in the mirror. It wasn't stained, just faded. Torn in a couple places, but she'd mended it well. She was really just being spoiled. She'd never had anything this nice before she'd met B.

A smile tugged at the corner of her lip, and she smoothed her hands slowly over the still shining fabric. Yes, she was being greedy… This one was still better than anything most people wore, and she was fond of it as well, after the many hours she'd put into stitching each line of the intricate webbing. Still it crumpled and shone under her lightest touch, light and delicately rough, the way silk was. She was more than satisfied. Why did she keep coming back to this place, to look at what she couldn't have, and didn't need?

She started to turn away, intending to head back to the living world and wait for Beetlejuice to get done with… Well, whatever it was he did when she wasn't around. She tried never to dwell on that too much. Of course, any plans she had for such a pleasant retreat, were killed in mid-breath, as the first thing she saw, as she turned, was a large spider in hot pink silks, her face pale, her eyes wide.

"L- Lydia?" Ginger squeaked, backing up so quickly that she almost fell over her own many feet. Her gaze flickered around the room in alarm, as she tried vainly to plaster a pleasant grin on her face, and succeeded in nothing so much as looking deathly terrified. "Fancy meeting you here, sugar…"

"B's not here." She assured the spider quickly, making the other girl tense hard at the nickname, and only then, slowly, force herself to relax. Lydia smiled, hoping to look at least a little comforting. "He'd never go fabric shopping with me… You know how men are." Not that she knew herself, her experience pretty much being limited to the ghost with the most…

"Hon," Ginger murmured, a little tersely, "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not know how that man of yours is." But her eyes had gone soft, and now, almost against her will, she was inspecting Lydia's current state of dress, clearly curious. "That's real pretty what you're wearing… Got the design as good as if you were a real spider. You make it yourself?"

Not sure if she was just making small talk, or was genuinely interested, Lydia still beamed with pride, giving the worn little poncho a little spin to show it off. "Yeah… I was looking to get material for another one, but the prices here are so expensive!" She cast one last, longing look, at the stuff she couldn't afford. "I mean, look at that silk there. I'd swear the spiders that spin that eat nothing but butter and honey, to make it turn out that way!"

Ginger, almost against her will again, turned to inspect the brilliant red sheen, and took in a surprised hiss of breath. "Well now hon, that'll make a small time spinner like me feel just plain inadequate!" She explained, moving forward, and running a light hand across the perfect material. "No wonder I ain't getting no one to look twice at my threads…"

For a moment, the camaraderie between them was perfect, and Ginger even flashed her an earnest smile, good natured and friendly as anything, before horrible reality came crashing in again, and her face once more went pale, as she remembered who she was talking to. "H- Hon, I'm sorry, don't mean to bother you with my silly nittering… Don't tell that fellah of yours I held you up, okay?"

Lydia's face fell, visibly, but she did her best to hide it. "Sure, of course." She agreed warmly, pointedly looking anywhere but at the ghost she suddenly wished could be her friend. But she'd tried that tact before, and considered herself lucky at how lightly those girls had gotten off. Of course, she hadn't really wanted to be friends with them anyway, for any reason but that they were alive, and Beetlejuice had known it. With Ginger, she really could see herself becoming the pink spider's friend…

But though Ginger should have taken this as an opportunity to flee, she paused halfway across the store, and looked back at the living girl, who was staring so hard into the deep red material now, that she had to blink back tears. Slowly the spider shifted from one foot to another, before casting another long look around, to be certain the girl was right, and Beetlejuice wasn't there. Then she just sort of stood there a moment, and then…

Sighed, put a smile back on her face, and moved back lightly to Lydia's side. "Sugar, there's something…" Lydia startled, blinking fast, and looked at her in surprise. Ginger started again. "You know, I never did thank you proper for getting between me and your fellah, the way you did. I mean, you tried to warn me, and I-" Here she just shook her head, smiling a little more nervously, but still smiling. "I think you pretty much saved my afterlife back there, you know what I mean?"

Lydia nodded slowly, well aware that this probably wasn't an exaggeration. "B can be pretty hard to handle." She agreed, amazed the spider was still talking to her, and grateful for the small kindness. "I don't even know why he puts up with me… I mean, we're best friends and all, and…" She gestured vaguely to the ring she wore, making Ginger's eyes grow wide. "But I'm not really sure how it happened."

They stood there uncomfortably for a moment after this, before Ginger turned back to the pretty material, a small, thoughtful look on her face. Anything to change the subject. "So are you gonna get it, hon? 'Cause they ain't gonna have stuff this good in here for long, before some rich snob snaps it up…"

The goth girl's lips pressed into a thin smile, and she shook her head. "No… I'm gonna head back. There's no telling when B's gonna show up, wondering where I am." She ran her fingers through her long, soft bangs, and considered the spider gratefully. "I guess this is goodbye, huh?"

Ginger gave a little shiver, and nodded. "No offense to you hon, you're a real nice girl and all… But I'm in no hurry to get in the way of that Beetle fellah again."

Lydia shrugged, not intending to be dismissive, but just supposing that her words made sense. To be honest, now that she'd thought of him, she was already eager to say goodbye too, and see if she could hunt him down. Maybe she could convince him to walk to Sandworm Peak with her, just one more time… She'd seen the sunset from there twice already, and had some great pictures, but it always took her breath away. And she personally, loved the sounds the sandworms made, as they rode the dunes…

It was probably a little rude, disappearing like that without any real goodbye, but she was eager to go, and she was certain that Ginger was eager to have her gone. It still shocked the spider a little, to see her there one moment, murmuring something under her breath, and then just gone… But then just as abruptly, she got the feeling she should be anywhere else, as fast as she could. No one needed to know she'd been talking to Beetlejuice's girl…

She was scurrying from the store as quickly as she could, and not paying nearly enough attention to where she was going. That's why she almost ran into the long, striped legs, layered with various coats of grime, before she saw who they belonged to. Beetlejuice wasted no such time, latching her easily around the middle with one hand, and lifting her to eye level, a grim smile on his face.

"Guess you don't scare easy, doll," He murmured, green eyes flashing with warning, and amusement, "But before we get into that… Why don't you do me a little favor, and tell me what Lyds was here looking for? I'm kinda looking to surprise her with something nice… And there she is, window shopping to her little heart's content. You know what she wants, right?"

"S-sure thing, Mr. Beetle-" Ginger squeaked, only to be cut off by a low growl, and hard shake. "I mean, sure I know, be glad to help you, honest!" Beetlejuice's piercing gaze examined her for a moment longer, and she did her best to shrink into her exoskeleton, smiling away like she meant it.

With a soft grunt, he dropped her, and she easily caught her feet, though she did sway on them, just a bit. "Seems like my Lyds likes you…" He grumbled, more to himself than her. "At least it ain't some living broad. I know I can keep you in your place." He nudged her with the toe of his shoe, and she scurried forward, hoping to point out the fabric, and somehow get out of there with her head intact.

She wanted to run as he examined Lydia's first choice, but was afraid to draw attention to herself. Maybe he'd just forget she was there, and leave… Kind of like playing dead, to avoid a bear's notice. But a moment later, he glanced down at her, with just a trace of a frown…

And then more terrifyingly, smiled. "Don't stand there looking like I'm gonna step on you, doll. We're past all that now. I'm just looking to make my babes happy, know what I mean?" The slightly calculating trace to his gaze sent a shiver down her back, and his smile just widened. "Seems like maybe, you could come in handy… What do you say?"

"Anything you say, mister?" Ginger squeaked, even her smile finally wavering. Beetlejuice just chuckled nastily, and that was when the spider was certain she was done for…

--------------------------------

A soft sound drew her attention, no louder than a sheaf of paper rustling, as she bent over her poncho, trying to repair a little torn place she'd found, upon returning to the living world. She turned her head to see, but by then Beetlejuice was already gone, or at least, watching her from her mirror.

He grinned, savoring the way she stood so slowly, her eyes wide with disbelief as she approached the huge roll of fabric, more or less the entire stock the store had offered. At first she clearly wasn't certain she was seeing right, that it wasn't some other cloth that he'd picked up for her, not knowing her preference. Beetlejuice felt smug as she reached out a tentative hand, then yanked it back at the light touch of the material, like she'd put her hand to a candle flame.

"B…" The croon came out like a song, lilting and filled with all the stuff he knew she felt, even if neither one of them often put it to words. It was music to his ears, and he couldn't stay silent any longer, a low chuckle escaping his throat, making her spin like a breath, her large luminous eyes fixed worshipfully on him. "B!" It was a cry of praise this time, as she flew across the distance between them, reaching right through the mirror, and burying her face in his throat, her tiny kisses blazing fiery trails across his skin.

"Now what'd I tell you about that…?" He grumbled, not for a second thinking of pushing her away. Her tiny mouth still pressed to him, over and over again, little cries of joy between every kiss, and warm salty tears falling unabashedly across his skin. Finally he could take no more, and tipped her face up, catching her lips with his own… She melted under his kiss, a tiny moan of absolute delight escaping her throat, muffled by his own mouth. It sent shivers across his skin…

And it was about all that he could take, finally pushing her back. Her eyes still glowed, but now her face flushed a little, as if she knew she'd gone too far, and her mouth drew up in a guilty little frown. He laughed shortly, tousling her hair, trying to distance himself from the conflicting emotions pulsating at different tempos through his body. She was his, that was all that mattered. He had to remember that. They had all the time in the world.

"Babes, you could kill me saying hello like that, if I weren't already dead!" He caught her by the hand, catching her at the end of her drawing away, and pulling her right back, to press the salty flesh of her palm lightly against his mouth. He felt as a shiver traced through her body, and grinned.

"Lyds," He drawled matter-of-factly, lifting his eyes lazily to hers once more, "I know it ain't no substitute for my company, but I'm gonna be busy for the rest of the day, and I wanted you to know I was thinking about you." He was even delighted when her face fell, just a little, the present indeed being a small comfort to her at the thought of his absence. "So you sit here," He murmured, turning it to a light scolding, "And don't come chasing after me, understood?"

"I wouldn't do that." She sighed, visibly disappointed, and not yet releasing his hand. "You're gonna go off doing whatever you do that leaves you in such a good mood when you come back… Promise me you don't have another girl stashed away someplace?" He made a small movement of surprise, hearing such a question come from her. "Someone that can make you smile like that… The way I can't?"

A disgusted curse fell from his lips, so utterly vile that her eyes grew wide in surprise, and she could only stare. This was followed by several other, similar swearings, before he finally reached out, snagged her around the waist, and pressed her hard to the surface of the mirror, keeping her head tipped up with two fingers, so she had no chance to look away.

"Babes," He said simply, his eyes almost hard with warning, "Any other broad so much as looked at me, making me think you'd see reason to worry, I'd cut her down the middle, and leave her for the worms, got it?"

It was a fairly disturbing declaration of love, but Lyds, after an initial moment of discomfort, seemed willing to take it at that, and even looked a little embarrassed for doubting him. "So… Just business." She murmured, smiling again, her faith in him easily restored from whatever demon doubt had gripped her before.

"Just business." He agreed, finally realizing how uncomfortable she had to be, and slowly releasing her. "Only room in my life for one girl, Lyds… And that position's been filled." He dropped a light kiss between her eyes with a growl. "Now don't go doubting me again, or I'm gonna have to do something drastic to prove myself, got it?"

A little giggle answered him, and again she turned those eyes up to his, so glowing with adoration. "Good. I'm all yours, babes." He tapped her ring lightly, adding in no uncertain terms, "Forever."

--------------------------------

The house was quiet, empty. She didn't know where her parents were, but then she rarely did. To be perfectly honest, she didn't even know what time it was. She'd stopped looking at the clock hours before.

Instead, her tongue pressed between her soft lips, her neck aching from hours of being held in the same position, bent over the length of fabric she'd measured three time before cutting, thin strips of black tape marking out the pattern she'd decided she needed to sew. Her hand was cramped from holding the delicate needle. She didn't have the luxury of a sewing machine, and wouldn't know how to use it if she did.

But the pattern was beginning to take hold, and at this point, she scrutinized every stitch before she made it, terrified of a mistake, when everything had been going so well. Each stitch was tiny, no more than three millimeters in length, as small as she could make it. The going was almost unbearably tedious. But she'd done this before… She knew it would be worth it.

When she finally paused to take stock of her work, she'd managed only about a meter of stitching, if it was all drawn end to end. Still she grinned, triumphant, her eyes sparkling. Not a stitch out of place. Not a thread snagged. This was going to be her best work yet. When Beetlejuice saw it…

Beetlejuice! She blinked, getting to her feet slowly, stiff from being in the same position for so long. Working her fingers out, twisting her back a little, her lips parting in an eager grin. He'd told her not to call for him until it got dark… Well it had to be dark now, right? She moved to the window, throwing open her heavy black curtains, and was greeted by the sight of the vanishing sun, still taking one last long look into that side of the horizon.

Running her fingers through her hair, she turned to her mirror, considering her reflection briefly. She looked haggard. Beetlejuice never seemed to mind when she looked run down, but at least she could try to pretty up a bit for him… She had a brief, bizarre moment of remembering back in the days when they'd first met, when she never would have thought she'd ever be in love with anyone. Long before she'd put on his ring. Back when she still saw him as some awesome dark god, newly fallen from the night sky…

But then, maybe that last part had only changed a little, she reflected, her lips twisting in fond amusement. Sure, she knew he wasn't a good guy now, like she'd used to think. And no, he really didn't go to as many pains to hide it from her anymore. He was flawed, yes, more human somehow, and decidedly a little insane… Even she could see that. And she knew that their relationship had probably never been exactly 'healthy,' per se… Knew that now.

But every time she was with him, all this fell away, and in many ways, she became that little girl again, amazed at the strange creature that came out of the darkness. Awed, and happy at finding a friend.

She tugged her lower lip with her finger, before turning on her heel, and grabbing the brush from her nightstand. She tackled her hair with a vengeance, well aware she had only a few minutes left before she could call him, and not wanting to wait a minute longer than she had to. It took less time than usual to put her hair up in its accustomed twist, tied with a deep black ribbon, and for once, she didn't bother with make-up. She twisted her ring in excitement, and turned back to the window, shivering a little.

It was dark. No more sun, not even a slip of it. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to stand still, and starting counting. She'd give him until she reached a hundred, then she'd call him. But she didn't even make it to thirty, squirming back and forth on her feet, before her eyes flew open again, and she blurted out his name. Once, twice…

Lydia held her breath for a moment in excitement, still awed at how easily all their barriers could slip away, and he could be beside her in an instant. His name hummed silently on her lips, begging to be spoken. It tasted like black cherries, covered in neitherworld chocolate. "Beetlejuice…" She whispered at last, much more softly than usual.

A small wind whipped up, and she turned, puzzled by it, to find Beetlejuice standing there in her window, the heavy curtains swaying around him, an oddly surprised look on his features. "B!" Lydia grinned, moving towards him with a little cry of happiness, and threw her arms around his middle, burying her face in his collar. "I wasn't early, was I?"

A long moment of silence followed, during which Beetlejuice made no attempt to return her embrace. She drew back slowly, an odd smell tickling her nose, wondering what was wrong. She was more than a little shocked to see the blood spray across his favorite suit, his hands covered in the slippery red stuff, drenching his sleeves. "B?" She whispered, taking in first the damage to his clothes, and that none seemed to have been done to him. "What happened?"

But Beetlejuice simply continued to stare at her without a word, and when her gaze finally reached his own, she almost shrank away at the cold evenness she saw there. Green eyes, absolutely flat, absolutely uncaring. She'd never seen that look in them before. "B?" She whispered slowly, then tried again, with a lesser used nickname. "Beej? What's wrong?"

He reached out slowly, taking her chin between thumb and forefinger, smearing her skin with sticky red, and gave his first hint of reaction, his mouth deepening into a slight frown. Her eyes searched her face, looking for something she didn't know how to offer. And then, darkly, he said the words that shattered her soul inside her.

"Who the hell are you?"

--------------------------------


	2. Not That Easily

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Heck. I know where I'm going. Just not entirely clear how to get there from here. And feeling a little like I haven't gotten enough sleep, even though I've gotten plenty. Is it just my imagination, or is this admittedly uncomfortable storyline, turning out even weirder than I expected…? I just keep telling myself, this is the way it's always been going… People keep asking what happens next, so hey, it has to be written… Right? Can't change what's set in stone… and in some way I don't understand myself, this has been set in stone for a while.

Maybe I do need sleep.

PS, an apology to BeetlesBabes, whose name is mentioned again in this chapter... I totally forgot that was her name. . I think it's a pretty cool name, but um, I don't think I can change it now...It's kind of integral to the story. Is that okay? I hope so...

----------------

Beetlejuice was wrist deep in his current client, feng shui'ing their internal organs, so to speak when he felt the tingle down his spine of someone calling his name. He froze, in the midst of replacing a kidney, eyes briefly narrowing in surprise. The curse applied to his name had been a thorn in his side for many years, a way of putting a leash on him… But there shouldn't be anyone left who had that particular power. He'd killed them all. So who was calling him?

He drew his hands free, wiping them off on his coat, and considered the near-dead guy before him, long since lost into unconsciousness. He repaired the damage he'd done with a thought, not one to leave messes to tell tales, at least when it came to the living. Twice now, they'd said his name twice. Why the hesitation now? His fingers twitched. If one person still had power over him… They wouldn't for long.

Suddenly he was pulled forward, so suddenly that he stood in the dark little room before he was really aware of moving. He'd forgotten how fast that was… His gaze turned to the only other person in the room with him, presumably the cause of his summons, a girl. He wouldn't kill her, not just yet. First he had some questions… And he was very good at getting answers.

Before he could advance, the girl turned, and on seeing him, her face lit up like the sunrise, briefly freezing him in surprise. "B!" She crooned, like it was some little pet name she had for him, crossing the distance between them without hesitation. While he stood there stiffly, not sure what to make of this greeting, she threw her arms around him, nestling her body trustingly against his own. She was_warm_. Damn, she was a breather? Then how the hell…? "I wasn't early, was I?"

He just stared down at her, struggling between his instinct to snap in half anyone with that kind of power over him, and an utter bafflement that demanded that he let her live long enough for some sort of explanation. For now, he didn't break his silence. He wanted to see what she'd do next.

Slowly she grew still against him, and even more slowly, drew back, her eyes taking him in with a sense of puzzlement. As if she were as confused by the situation as he was. "B?" She was uncertain now, still using the familiar moniker, but clearly not sure what to think of his blood soaked clothes. And here she was pretending to know him… "What happened?"

Beetlejuice just continued to stare at her, until her wandering eyes finally met his own. He swore, when they did, she flinched visibly, some sort of hurt and worry flickering across her suddenly wide pupils. "B?" Still she persisted in that, though now with far less certainty. "Beej?" Another shortening of his name, no more familiar than the last. "What's wrong?"

Again, it occurred to him that it would save a great deal of time to just kill her now, rather than letting his curiosity draw this out. But he _was_ curious. How the hell did she know him? Why the hell would she _call_ him, if she did? He reached out, taking her chin between thumb and forefinger, and gave himself a long moment to study her features, looking for anything he might recognize.

Nothing. This girl was a stranger to him. A damn good looking stranger, but whatever game she was playing, she clearly didn't know what she was getting into. Odd though, if she knew who he was, that she didn't flinch at all when he reached for her…

"Who the hell are you?" He finally demanded. For a long moment, she just stared at him, utterly uncomprehending. Then her lips moved, slowly, and after a moment more, her knees seemed to buckle a little, and she suddenly had trouble keeping her feet.

She took a slow step back, more an effort to remain standing than one to escape, then another, then another. At last she had nowhere to retreat to, the back of her legs finding her mattress, and she simply fell. Never once did her eyes so much as blink. "B," She whispered, her voice shaken, "That's not funny." A long pause hung between them, as he tried again to figure out what her game was. She continued to stare though, and after a moment, her next words were far softer. "But, you're not joking, are you?"

"Not something I'd joke about, kid." He growled, advancing on her a little, and noting in some distant part of his mind that she still didn't draw away, her eyes simply widening a little more. "Not when I'm guessing you're talking about the reason I haven't killed you yet, considering you can use my name."

At first, it seemed she had no answer to this, she just sat there, slumped, a devastated look to her whole body. "But… you're my best friend." She whispered softly.

Beetlejuice gave a short, sharp laugh, from disbelief as much as anything. "Now I know you're bull-shitting me, kid. No one in their right mind would call a guy like me their friend…" His laughter died though, just as suddenly, as she seemed to find no humor in it at all, and just continued to stare down at her hands, with unsettling intensity. He shook his head grimly, no longer amused. "Hope that little game was worth your life, kid… You'd have been better off, me never finding out you could call me."

The girl, even as he started advancing again, lifted her hand between them, spinning a circlet of gold on her finger. "I'm wearing your ring." She whispered, her voice so earnest, so without any trace of deceit, that it gave him pause yet again. With a slightly building voice, she reached into her shirt, and drew out a beetle shaped locket, saying more loudly, almost a yell, "I'm wearing your locket! Look at it!"

Not bothering to unclasp the bit of jewelry, she ripped the chain from her neck, breaking it, and causing a small flare of red to bloom against her throat. She was on her feet, advancing on him, with such a complete lack of fear that it caught him off guard, making him stumble back, and look at her again like she was crazy. She didn't care, she grabbed for his bloodied hand, and shoved the locket into it, her eyes desperate now. "It's not funny, B! You have to remember me! You're all I have!"

Recovering his senses, he gave her a solid shove backwards, making her fall across the bed again. She just lay there this time, tears springing up in her eyes, her lips trembling. "Look at it…" She begged him, shaking her head slowly. "You gave that to me not even a month ago! I haven't taken it off once! Look at the back, B!"

His head spinning a little, in a way he really didn't like, he turned the locket over, and did his best to wipe the blood away. It was an engraving of him, with some girl… With her. And the words, 'Beetle's Babes,' were carved deeply beneath it. As far as mind games went, this one was pretty damn elaborate. He looked up with a frown. "Strike two, kid." He said softly. "You can't bullshit a bull-shitter. You got one try left to convince me not to rip you into pieces, wait for you to die, then do it again."

For the first time, a trace of fear touched her gaze, and she just stared at him, apparently without anything left to say. Just as he started to smile though, accepting this as surrender, she whispered, "Look next to your heart, B."

Beetlejuice snorted, now she was just being pathetic. "For what, some hint of mercy I've just never shown until now?" He sneered, adjusting his sleeves, already deciding the best way to do this. "Give it a rest, kid…"

"Not in your heart!" She snapped, her voice suddenly rising in anger. "Next to your heart! You always keep a picture of me close to your heart, so goddamn it, just look!" Her voice cracked in desperation, the anger vanishing as quickly as it came. She pulled herself up again, her eyes pleading. "Look, if I'm lying… You can do whatever you want with me. But if I'm telling the truth… Please, try to remember!"

As far as last ditch ploys went, this one was certainly desperate. But since inside his own body was the one place he knew she couldn't plant something, he rolled his eyes, cracked his ribcage open, and waited for her to try something. Only she didn't. Instead, her face lit up with hope. Why?

Glancing down, he saw the slip of paper now sticking out of his chest, and swore his stomach did a little flip. Pulling it out in disbelief, he turned it between his fingers, and narrowed his eyes at it, not willing to accept what his own eyes were telling him. It was her. The girl who summoned him. He looked from her image, to her, then back again. There was no mistaking it.

Turning it over, he found writing on the back, more astonishingly still, in his own handwriting. _Lyds, being careless, yet again. Babes has no clue I'm not ten feet away… Gotta love her._

Beetlejuice felt the need to sit down, and walked across the distance between them without really thinking about it, sitting next to the living girl on her bed. He tucked the picture back into his chest, absently, and looked down at her, surprised to find her once more tucked into his side, her tear-streaked face looking up into his broken-heartedly.

"I knew you were going to kill me one day, B." She whispered, her throat thick with emotion, "But you told me you'd be gentle, and… I thought you'd know me, and we could be together." She turned her face into his shoulder, wiping her tears on his striped coat, and smearing her own face with blood in the process. "You promised, B. Forever. You promised. Please remember, please…"

This girl had a serious death wish, and was clearly more than a little unbalanced to boot. But she was also telling the _truth_, as impossible as it seemed. He frowned, and dropped his hand to her head, playing with her silky black hair as he thought this over. He'd forgotten a lot of things, in the midst of a killing spree. That was true. He'd woken up before with days lost to his memory. But one thing he'd never forgotten, was a face. Not once, in over six hundred years.

And apparently, he was even less likely to forget this particular kid's face. She was just resting against him, not saying a word, not even looking up anymore. Like she just didn't have the will to fight for her own life, if he couldn't remember why he shouldn't kill her. _Was _there a reason? There'd have to be a pretty damn good one…

She was wearing his ring, right? He gazed at the slip of gold distrustfully. No way to tell how much of this was real, if he couldn't remember shit. She stirred against him, her hand dropping to his opposite one, and sighed, pressing her warm body briefly against him. Damn, that felt good. He wasn't expecting that. Wasn't expecting her to stay so still, so limp, in his arms. Wasn't expecting to like it.

A small, pained sound escaped her, as her head fell against his arm, and her tears started flowing again. "What would make you forget me, B?" She whispered, her breath soft as thought, "I can't believe you'd forget me, unless something made you… You'd never forget me."

Unless something made him? Her words, so carelessly spoken, struck a chord of warning in him, and Beetlejuice's eyes narrowed grimly. Well, that was a distinct possibility, wasn't it? And the only one that made sense. He'd had memories stolen before, memories of who he was, and how he behaved, in some idea that this would rehabilitate him… Some of them he'd never gotten back, but it hadn't changed a damn thing about him. Would someone try that again? He thought he'd made his point the first time…

But why make him forget the girl? If he gave a damn about her, which he still couldn't imagine, then that was a weakness his enemies should exploit, not rid him of. What did he give a damn about a girl he didn't even remember? He shook his head, not able to make heads or tails of it, and finally pushed her away with a grimace. "I'm outta here, kid." He growled roughly, standing. "Before I do something I might regret later." She stared at him stupidly, and he scowled. "B words, kid. Send me back while I'm still in a good mood."

Slowly, the girl shook her head, then nodded, a soft sigh escaping her. When she lifted her gaze again, her eyes were filled with light once more, with something that towards another person, he might have even called something bigger. "You're all I have, B." She whispered again, a small, sad smile playing across her mouth. "You'll come back to me. I know it." And then his name, once, twice, thrice…

And it was time to find out just exactly what it was he'd forgotten. As he'd reflected once already, if there was one thing he was good at, it was getting answers.

--------------------------------

Hours had passed. Hours. At any moment, she'd expected Beetlejuice to pop back into her mirror, oh yeah, he remembered her now, couldn't that have turned nasty… Her mirror remained empty. She hadn't moved from her position since he'd left, staring at the unblemished glass, empty, mocking. He'd come back any moment though. He had to.

Her throat itched, and she lifted her hand to it absently. She'd cut herself, pulling the locket free, and the blood had dried where it trickled across her pale skin. Now it stuck at her, and itched. She licked her thumb, and did her best to smudge it away, too lost in thought to really pay attention as she just succeeded in opening the wound again.

It must be almost midnight. She blinked, suddenly finding her eyes heavy, and turned to look at her clock. She was a little surprised to find that it was three in the morning. She'd expected him back by now…

No. No, that was stupid. He didn't remember her. He might never come back again. And if he did come back, it might be to kill her. For good.

Her whole world had gone dark with his roughly spoken demand, 'Who the hell are you?' She felt, broken. And yet her lips remained pressed into a small smile. Defiant. B didn't remember her. He'd probably kill her, then kill her again. That was fine. She had nothing to live for without him, anyway. She wondered briefly what happened to a ghost, when they died…

She got to her feet, a little unsteadily, and was about to head to the bathroom, her only intention to drown herself in water as hot as she could stand, until the pain stopped. Not literally of course. She still had hope. But she was stopped by a small sound behind her, like someone clearing their throat.

Lydia spun, her heart doing its best to skyrocket out of her chest. _B_? It made no sense at all, to her mind, when her eyes landed on Ginger instead, so she just stared, confused. Expecting her image to give way to the poltergeist's at any moment. Then slowly, she managed a small smile. She never thought she'd hear from the spider again… It wasn't Beetlejuice, but it was someone to talk to.

"Ging…" She whispered, a little giggle catching the word, almost like a sob. The spider's face, which had been frightened, almost unwillingly grew concerned. "God, _you _remember me, right?" And then she fell into a fit of giggles, just feeling too much at once, which ended only when Ginger reached bodily through the mirror, and shook her.

"You look like hell, sugar!" Ginger greeted her, when the insane giggling finally subsided. "Here I was, about to tell you the bad day I had, and I'd swear you been through something even worse!" A small pause, before she admitted, "And I ain't even sure how that'd be possible, with you still breathing, and everything…"

"B doesn't remember me." It was said no louder than a whisper, still with that same defiant smile. "He's got no clue who I am. I'm kinda surprised he didn't kill me. Twice."

The pink spider looked dumbfounded, then turned her gaze around the goth girl's room, twice, before it landed back on Lydia's face. "Honey," She protested softly, "You're not making any sense. I mean, you two been friends, for…"

"Years." Lydia answered simply, waving this away. "Forever, it seems like. Doesn't matter. He doesn't remember me anymore." Even now, the horrible fact was still taking its time to sink in. "But, he will, right? I mean, he can't just forget me, and…" And what? Move on with his afterlife, without her?

Something in her chest swelled up, like it was too full, and she let out a little sound of pain. At the same time though, the smile on her face became a little more genuine, if a bit grimmer. "Well, I'll make him remember then. He fell for me once, right? Even if he doesn't remember…" Okay, so honestly, she didn't buy that for an instant, and had to pause, to think how the finish the words honestly. "Even if he doesn't remember, he's still my best friend." She finished quietly.

Ginger backed up a little, even in the glass, looking more worried by the moment. "But sugar, if he's forgotten everything, then maybe you should just…"

"What?" The word fell from her tongue fiercely, as her eyes gleamed with determination. "Stay forgotten?" A slow shake of her head. "I'll let him kill me, before I let him forget me." This said, she stood abruptly, reaching for her old poncho, and swung it over her shoulders with a stubborn grin. "If he lost his memory, I'll just find it. That's how the neitherworld works, right?"

"I- I'm not sure it is, honey…" Ginger tried to protest, clearly not liking where this was going.

"It's like a bag of marbles," Lydia pressed on, no longer listening at all, "Someone in the neitherworld loses their marbles, they actually lose their marbles, right? Then you find them, you put them back, everything's fine again!" She was making less and less sense as she went on, since that probably wasn't how it worked at all, and she damn well knew it. But at this point, she was willing to try anything. "I wonder what the hell a memory looks like, anyway?"

"Lydia, I really don't think you should…" Ginger was trying to caution her, even as once again, the goth girl ignored her, throwing her arms into the arm with a slightly mad laugh, and yelling the poltergeist's name. "Honey, don't do that!" The spider cried louder, alarmed. Again she yelled it, still ignoring the girl she'd wanted so badly to be friends with, just earlier that day. "I'm serious, you're gonna get yourself killed!"

"BEETLEJUICE!" Lydia yelled at the top of her lungs, not caring who heard, not caring if she woke her parents up, just trying to drown out the little voice of reason in the back of her mind that told her that Ginger was right. The air tightened around her, in a way it never had before, and then she was falling, whipping through blackness deeper than fear…

And Ginger could only stare at the place where the living girl had stood just a moment before, her jaw slack in horror. There was nothing she could do now… Lydia was gone.

--------------------------------

"… so I figure, something like this goes down, a man in your position has to know about it, right?" Beetlejuice was smiling, that smile that made sane men wet themselves and run away. Only one of which the guy before him, seemingly formed of a twisted knot of tendons, could do. All around them, the air smelled of blood. Beetlejuice was full of bullet holes. The floor was covered with bits and pieces of the mob guy's goons. And Beetlejuice was sure as _hell_ going to get his answers.

The man, whose name Beetlejuice couldn't currently bring to mind, was wide eyed, making little infantile noises in the back of his throat, and surely well aware that lying at this point would only make for a very drawn out death at the mad poltergeist's hands. "W-what do you care?" He rasped at last, his eyes fixed somewhere beyond the ghost, at some ghoul who, an hour before, had been hanging on his arm. "The broad was a liability, right? Someone in your position, they don't need anyone holding them down!"

This of course, was simply conformation, not only in what the girl had claimed, but that this clown, in fact, did know something. "Okay," Beetlejuice agreed, his smile growing marginally, "We're gonna call that strike one. Do I gotta ask again, or should we go for all three right now, and I can ask you again in a few hours?"

The crime boss, who currently had Beetlejuice's sharply clawed hand reaching somewhere into his innards, winced as the ghost twisted his fingers, making certain he'd made his point. "Okay, so I heard something!" He agreed hastily, actually yelling in pain as Beetlejuice, rather than relenting, just tightened his grip on his victim's liver. "I- I don't know nothing about who did it! Just that it's supposed to be some kind of divine retribution, taking away the only thing you give a fuck about!"

"And how exactly does that do a damn thing to me, if I can't remember?" The poltergeist pressed coldly, burrowing his arm up to the elbow now, while his other hand tightened even further on the doomed ghost's throat. "Don't seem like I'm losing anything, either way…"

"But you killed her, right?" This last came out as a squeak, the creature before him slowly going limp, the light fading from his eyes. "The only precious thing you got in your whole damn afterlife… So they'll make you remember now, and you'll have to… have to… fucking _live_ with it. Damn it, what the hell are you…?" This last came out as a little gasp, and his head slumped forward, limply. Seemed he was telling the truth about not knowing who did it, after all.

This however, left Beetlejuice with a new, very real problem. Say he was soft on the girl. As hard as that was to believe. That he did give a damn about her. So someone out there was using this against him, waiting for him to kill the kid, and try to break his mind with it. By making him care about someone he'd killed. Hell with that.

Maybe just as importantly as the power this might offer them, was the fact that they'd fucking dared to steal from _him._ Beetlejuice! Took something that apparently meant something important, and sat back somewhere, laughing their asses off about it. Holding his memories in the palm of their hand… Hell, he didn't know if he wanted them back or not, but he sure as shit was going to make them pay for taking them!

He looked with a frown down at the half-dead dead guy by his feet. He wouldn't get anything more from him. Habit dictated that he kill him now… But he would let him live, so no one had any question two ways that it was him that did this. That he knew. There was a reason he was the thing that scared people in the dark… And if the neitherworld had forgotten that, then he was sure as shit gonna remind them.

This did however, leave the question of that girl… What was her name, anyway? Damn, he couldn't remember. He pulled the picture back out of his chest, smearing the black and white shading with red, and considered the words on the back again. _Lyds_. Huh. Not much of a name, was it? But he'd make sure to remember it, this time.

Giving the semi-conscious creep at his feet a final, savage kick, he stalked from the room in a royally foul mood, ready to kill the first person he laid eyes on. He swung the door open impatiently… And found himself staring at her again. That girl. The breather. How the hell had she gotten to the neitherworld?

Lyds, whatever her real name was, looked past him, without really meaning to, and her face went slack, just a little. Definitely pale. She swallowed hard, and turned her gaze back to him. Afraid, but not terrified. Not like she should be. "And what the hell do you want, kid?" He snapped, well aware that no matter how badly he wanted to hurt someone just then, he couldn't risk hurting her, or it might come back later to bite him in the ass. When he actually gave a damn again.

"I want to help you find your memory." She said slowly, forcing her gaze away from the bloodshed and death behind him a second time, and seeking some sort of comfort in his own red stained features. _Help him find his memory,_ she said. Like it was something he'd fucking misplaced. "I'm not just letting you go."

Beetlejuice smiled, slowly. That smile that made sane men wet themselves, and run away. But this girl, she met that smile without flinching, and even answered it with a thinly-humored grin of her own. Almost challenging him to try to stop her. Kid was fucking crazy. But he could kind of admire that. "Your skin." He agreed softly, making her face, incredibly, flood with relief.

"Yeah," She agreed easily, as if this were no risk at all, "My skin."

_-------------------------------_


	3. Was There Something?

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Okay, this is short, granted, but by the time I got to the end, adding another scene would have been, well, too long. As for the plot... Remember people, there is a reason Beetlejuice fell for her in the first place. Whether he wants to admit it or not... The thing is, last time, it took a long time, and, well... There might not be enough time, this time. We'll see.

--------------------------------

If she didn't know before that Beetlejuice was a nasty customer to cross, Lydia learned it that night, quickly. He killed, not just without remorse, but with a sort of savage pleasure. He didn't hesitate to cause pain… And he never killed quickly. She swore she was going to have nightmares about this after it was done.

But it would be done. She would get Beetlejuice back. Just the same, after the first place they visited together, she stayed on the other side of the door, while he asked the questions. This didn't blot out the sounds of screams. But it also meant she could hear the answers, when they were finally offered. And her friend it seemed, always managed to get his answers.

Unfortunately, the answers were always the same. They didn't know who had done it. They just knew why. The prospect of being used as a weapon against him, made Lydia's stomach twist, and her eyes sting in anger. Damn it, someone wanted him to kill her… She was just a tool to hurt her best friend. It was the first time she might actually have wanted to kill someone more than he did.

"… you said, she's the best thing you got going for you…" The voice inside was rasping more, a suicidal little laugh coloring the pained confession. "Why the hell wouldn't someone take that away from… urg!" A deep, guttural sound, followed almost immediately by that same, utterly mad laughter. "…love to see the look on your face… Ripped that little bitch to pieces, didn't you?"

After this, anything he had to say became pretty much unintelligible, and Lydia pressed her lips into a thin line, pointedly not caring what horrors Beetlejuice was visiting on the guy. That was the thing, everyone they'd questioned seemed to think he'd had this coming… No one gave a damn either way about her role in it. Hate was a strong word, but in this case, it was exactly what she was feeling. She didn't even flinch at the solid, nasty sound of something solid giving way to something liquid. Instead she felt vindicated. Even now, even if he didn't notice, B was still looking out for her.

The door swung open, Beetlejuice looking nothing so much as annoyed. When his gaze landed on her, that expression just deepened into a frown. A moment later though, he just looked away, and walked past, wondering under his breath what the hell he'd been thinking. She knew what he meant, and didn't care. She just fell into step beside him.

They'd made it about half a block, when Beetlejuice, his hands shoved in his pockets, glanced over his shoulder at her, and took in the fact that the living girl was barely even on her feet. The sun was almost back up over the horizon, making it a day since she'd had any sleep. Not that he cared. But it was odd, seeing her stumble along so determinedly, on account of his missing memories.

A slight discomfort chose that moment to make itself known, and the poltergeist grimaced, laying his hand over his blood soaked middle. Damn, he was hungry. "So, what do you breathers eat?" He demanded, not sparing another glance in her direction.

"Not much you'd like, B." She answered with a smile, her voice somehow still light and undamaged by the night spent at his side. A pause, before she added slowly, "Not that I'm hungry… As far as food goes, the only kind we both like, is neitherworld candy."

This surprised him, just a little. The broad had a stomach for neitherworld sweets? He wondered if she knew what was in them… "Yeah, well I don't feel like dining out at the moment," He informed her impatiently, dropping back to grab her by the arm, "So we're going back to your place, and you're gonna fix something to eat, got it?"

In the grip of a killer, the girl just lifted an eyebrow, considered him sideways, and smiled. In truth, it made him a little uneasy. "I'm a lousy cook," She informed him matter-of-factly, "But I guess it doesn't matter, since you're going to hate anything we have back there to eat, anyway." A pause. "Does this mean I have permission to use your name? You did say something about breaking me in half if I called you again…"

"Just get it over with, doll." He muttered, more amused by her incorrigibility than he cared to admit. She shrugged, and his name fell from her tongue lightly, once, twice… The tingle down his spine wasn't quite the way he remembered it. Somehow, less intrusive. She gave him a long glance before saying it the third time, sort of a, 'get ready, here it comes!'

They ended up back in what he assumed was the broad's bedroom. When he would have released her, she caught his hand, albeit briefly, and gave it a brief squeeze. Like it was supposed to be familiar, or reassuring, or something. Beetlejuice just frowned, and as she drew away again, followed her out of the room.

"You're going to get blood everywhere." She admonished him gently, giving him a small glance, with soft, dark eyes. "Please clean up. I don't want to explain this to my parents."

"Want me to kill them for you?" He grinned, showing every jagged tooth. The girl didn't even have the decency to look alarmed, just shaking her head absently, as she pulled the fridge open. Not much got to this kid, did it? Well hell, if she really had been hanging around him for… How much time had he forgotten, anyway? "So just how long have you known me, anyway?" He demanded, not a guy used to simply asking nicely.

"Since I was twelve." She answered, from somewhere in the depths of the fridge. "Want me to tell you how we met?" She sure was taking this calmly, wasn't she? He turned it over, then admitted he was curious what kind of encounter would not have ended with her dead, and made a small sound of acknowledgement. "Okay, hold on."

Straightening, she brought out what looked like butter and eggs, and… He didn't really care what. But grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, she started mixing a bunch of stuff together, lifting her gaze only briefly to consider the ghost watching her. "Well, I don't know what was going through your head that night," She said at last, "But we met outside this house. I don't know what you were doing in the living world, and I probably don't want to know."

"All I'm sure of, is that I was in a deep funk, and when I saw you, all decked up in steel and fur, looking like some sort of shadowed demon wolf, I thought, 'oh hell, at least this is gonna be an interesting way to die.'" Her lips curled a little at the memory, her eyes oddly fond. "So I figure, 'how many people get killed by something that doesn't exist… I wonder what it feels like?'"

"And the next thing I know, I'm running my fingers through your fur, and you, looking hella surprised, you change back into a ghost, right while I'm busy petting you." She shook her head slowly. "Maybe it should have scared the hell out of me. I don't know. I just thought that it had to be the coolest thing I'd ever seen. So I ask you what else you can do. I'm not even thinking about dying anymore."

"Before I know it, you've taken like twenty different shapes, each one freakier than the last, and I…" She turned her gaze back to him, her eyes practically glowing at the memory. "I can't take my eyes off you, B." For a moment, this gaze stretched between them, her looking at him like… He didn't even know. Then she was blushing, actually fucking blushing, and looking away. "I don't know, after that you just put up with me, until you seemed to like having me around. That's it."

That was it? Yeah fucking right. But he was reaching his hand out before he knew it, running his fingers through her own silky tresses. For a moment she stiffened, in surprise more than fear, unless he was reading her wrong, but then she seemed to go limp under his touch. A sigh fell from her lips, and she turned into his hand, letting his stained fingers fall across the soft, creamy skin of her cheek, and then her throat.

It was when she opened her eyes again that his touch faltered. She was looking at him that way again. Like someone starved for light, watching the sun rise. It unsettled him, and he drew away. But his fingers burned where he'd touched her… Tingling. Wanting to reach out again.

_Damn. And this is me not even able to remember the broad!_ He grunted in annoyance, slouching against the counter, and pointedly looked anywhere else. Of course, his hand wasn't the only part of him that wanted to reach for her again… "And what's in it for you?" He asked gruffly, inspecting a god awful piece of art on the wall, like it held the meaning to existence. "And what's your name, anyway?"

There was a small pause, then quietly, "Lydia." She didn't answer the first part though, not right away. Instead she turned the stove on, a flare of light and heat, flickering blue. "What should be in it for me? You're my best friend, and… There's a reason I'm wearing your ring."

A sneer crossed his lips, he couldn't help it, what she was suggesting was ridiculous. "So what, we were gonna get married?" He finally composed himself enough to look back at her. "You gonna tell me you love me now, too?"

Lydia hesitated, her hand on the handle of the pan, which had to be growing uncomfortably hot by now. "Yeah," She said slowly, "I do. I love you. And we were going to get married." She lifted her head, and turned to regard him, suddenly sad. "But you don't believe me, do you?"

The really unsettling thing of course, was that he actually did. But there was no way in hell he was going to admit it. "Whatever, doll." He agreed dismissively, once again finding the need to look anywhere but at the girl who'd just told him she loved him. "You'd say just about anything, at this point, with me having no way to know if it's true."

"I hope I'm not like that…" She murmured, more to herself, as she finally poured the batter she'd been mixing, into the hot pan. "Anyway, the one thing I know you like is caramel," This, as far as he knew, was utterly out of nowhere, "So I'm making some caramel swirled pancakes. Which means they're probably going to burn."

Indeed, within seconds, the smell of burning sugar swept through the kitchen, but Beetlejuice just took a deep drink of it through his nose… He loved that smell. Slowly, he turned his attention to the girl cooking, taking in her appearance for the first time. She was a twig, thin as anything, draped in a blood-red poncho, several sizes too big for her. She was wearing baggy black jeans, and her hair, which had probably once been put up nicely, was now sticking out everywhere. Simply put, she was a mess.

But in all honesty, she still looked seriously hot. A small smile played across his face, as he deliberately dismissed any uncertainties he might have held, and focused on the fact that if this chick did figure herself for being in love, there probably wasn't much she wouldn't let him do to her.

He moved up behind her, silently, and snaked his arm around her wait, giving her a good hard squeeze. When she hesitated, he just buried his face in her thick black tresses, and took a deep breath of her scent… God, she was _warm_, she smelled of sweat and some kind of sweetness, and _fuck_ it felt good when she relaxed slowly into him, letting her body be cupped by his. "B…" She sighed, a soft, mournful, yet somehow beckoning sound, "I don't want to know why you're doing this, do I?"

"Quiet doll, I'm busy." He murmured, moving through the waves of black to her throat, when he dropped a light, lingering kiss. She whimpered, and relaxed against him more, becoming soft, pliant in his arms. He tasted her skin with the tip of his tongue, a mild trace of salt and exhaustion, and something he hadn't expected… An answering desire, in the little moan that followed.

His fingers slid across her stomach, then began fisting up the light poncho, eager to reach the skin beneath. First silk, then sweatshirt… Then she curved under his touch, scalding heat against his deathly cold fingertips, soft as anything as she arched under his hand, another little moan falling from her lips. She turned against him, leaving her cooking where it lay, and lifted her gaze to the hungry poltergeist, her eyes brimming with an answering longing.

Catching her lips, hard, he drew in the taste of her. Her mouth moved against him, and with a flick of his tongue, he laid her open, pressing deeply into the warmth of her, her mouth surrounding him, welcoming him. His hands tightened on her shoulders, not caring when she made a little uncertain sound… But caring very much when she forcibly drew away.

Lydia was staring at him with wide, wondering eyes, her fingers pressed lightly to her sore lips. "You've never-" She began, only to fall silent as he caught her throat lightly, tipping her head up with his thumb, and came in for another kiss, this one no more hesitant than the last.

This time, she made no effort to draw free, and let him break the kiss, in his own good time. She was left blinking, wide eyed, puzzled, looking at him for the first time as if he were a stranger. Beetlejuice just grinned. "You gonna tell me I've never kissed you before, doll?" He drawled slowly, tightening his grip on her, briefly, before letting go. "'Cause it seems if you _are_ wearing my ring and all, that entitles me to certain, privileges… right?"

"Privileges…" She echoed softly, not really seeming to hear the word. "You've just, never kissed me like that before." His eyebrow flew up, questioningly. "You were always gentle… I mean, not gentle, but _gentle_." Even she seemed to realize how ridiculous this sounded, and shook her head in frustration, trying again. "I mean…"

"If I was ever gentle, about _anything_," He informed her, in no uncertain terms, "Then being with you must have made me soft, girlie." Not a thought he liked at all, and his frown proved it. For the moment at least, she couldn't seem to look away. "And if you were making me soft, seems to me that now would be a good time to fix that, right?"

No trace of fear formed on her face, but for a moment, she did look sad. "You were only soft for me." She whispered, as if this somehow excused it.

Then her eyes widened, and she suddenly seemed to notice the thick smoke surrounding them both, spinning back to the stove to yank the pan off the burner. Coughing, she shook her head, furious with herself for getting distracted. But how could she not be distracted by Beetlejuice? Especially… Especially when he kissed her like _that_. With no reluctance, no hesitation… No restraint, whatsoever. It bruised her lips, and god, it took her breath away…

Scraping madly at the blackened sphere in the pan, she cursed herself quietly, using words she'd heard him use before, even if some of them, she didn't know their meaning. He just watched, an amused little twist to his lips. But he was a danger, she knew now. And not just the danger he'd been before. Now he looked at her with hunger, now he _wanted_ her… And she hadn't forgotten his warning. If they were together…

But maybe that didn't matter to him anymore. Maybe he'd take what he could get, damn the consequences to her. So she gritted her teeth, scrubbed at the blackened pan with determination, and under his watching eye, turned back to the stove again, for yet another attempt at caramel pancakes. "As for your privileges," She whispered, trying not to let her throat sound too tear-thick, "You warned me what would happen, if we were together while I was alive. That your power would rip me apart."

Beetlejuice considered her, with a small, disturbing smile. "So would that mean you've _never_ gone all the way, doll?" He asked thickly, making her flinch, for the first time. There was a nail on the head… A low chuckle made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "So what _exactly_ was I planning to do with you, since I was so certain we wouldn't be able to consummate this marriage, _Lydia_?"

The use of her name, her full name, caught her off guard. Lydia? B had never called her by her full name before… Not that she could remember, anyway. Her heart fell a little, as it sank in yet again that she really had lost him, even if he was standing right there.

"You were going to wait until I was older," She whispered softly, not above recognizing how wrong it was to be explaining her best friend's own past to him, "Until I was ready. Then you were going to kill me. You had it planned out. You were going to make me, perfect, even in death." She slid the spatula under the pancake, mechanically, flipping it over. "That's what you said."

Beetlejuice made a small sound, humor or disgust, she couldn't be certain. "So here I got a girl, hot as hell, crazy about me, and I still can't get any ass!" He muttered, turning away from her, and ducking into her fridge himself. "You got any beer, girlie?"

"In the back." She murmured, flipping the pancake again for good measure. Her fingertips wiped slowly along her cheek, not because she was crying, but because she felt like she should be. With one final flip, the pancake was on a plate, and she handed it to him as he straightened, beer in hand. He barely glanced at her as he took it, and she turned back, ready to make herself one. But if she hadn't been hungry before, she really had no appetite now…

Beetlejuice watched her as she cooked her own meal, picking at his food, which wasn't half as bad as she'd led him to expect. Something seemed, taken out of her. Drained. It annoyed him that, well, that it annoyed him. He didn't like seeing her like this, and hell if he knew why. Maybe some trace of what he had known, like a splinter of glass that some idiot hadn't quite worked free… He certainly couldn't consider that he might actually just be falling for again, for the same reasons he had the first time.

No, he couldn't consider that… And yet he couldn't turn his eyes away as she walked to the kitchen table, sitting down, and then staring at her food like she had no appetite at all. He was gripped with the bizarre urge to say something… Take her mind off whatever was eating her. He walked over to her, a bit reluctantly, and stuck his beer in her face. "You want some?" He snapped, annoyed with himself for giving a damn.

Lydia blinked, looked at the bottle, then smiled slowly. She knew full well that it was an offering between them, and she sure as hell hadn't expected it. She had no reason to. He watched as she took the bottle, then took the tiniest swig possible, doing her best not to make a face. He barked shortly in laughter, claiming it back from her when she offered it. But he didn't say a word.

It seemed like eating was possible now, so she took a bite of her own cooking, and was surprised at the light sweetness of it, with only a mild taste of burning. She still wasn't really hungry, but who knew when the next time was, she might have a chance to spend time with him like this? She should enjoy it while she could.

She only looked up at the sound of a chair dragging out, as he joined her grudgingly at the kitchen table, smirking when he saw the pleased expression this gave her. "So just one more question," He pressed, with thin humor, "You said you loved me… I'll buy that. Did I ever say it back?"

This question caught her off guard, and her immediate answer, the one she would have expected to say, died in her throat, as she tried to remember if he _had _ever said it. At last, less than happy to admit something she'd honestly never realized, she pressed her lips together, and shook her head slowly. He narrowed his eyes as she didn't meet his gaze for a moment. But she wasn't done just yet.

"You didn't say it," She whispered, something like defeat in her tone, but something doggedly stubborn in as well, "But you know, I never noticed. Because you went out of your way for me all the time, B. Always doing stuff for me. Picking up gifts for me, dancing with me, taking me places… Except when you had business, or I had school, we were pretty much always together."

Her words had become stronger as she said them, and now, finally, she was able to lift her head with a smile. "So you tell me, B… Did you say it?"

If Beetlejuice had an answer for this, he didn't offer it. He just frowned, for a long, long moment… And then without a word of explanation, the dangerous poltergeist smiled, and turned back to his meal. Love. Huh. Who would have figured? Not him, that was for fucking sure…

But hell, he could have done a lot worse, couldn't he?

--------------------------------


	4. That Is The Question

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Okay, sorry that once again, this is such a short chapter. But this story is pretty much telling _me _how it wants to be written, and not the other way around. I'm just trying my best to keep up.

----------------

She was on her last legs, stubbornly attending school despite her lack of sleep, wondering at the same time why she bothered. It had to be because she loved learning. She had no intention of staying in this world long enough for a diploma to matter worth anything. Of course, that, with everything else in her life, was no longer nearly as certain as she'd thought it'd be.

No, the truth was, she went to school because it was expected of her. Because despite her relationship with Beetlejuice, despite her unconditional acceptance of all things bad that he did, she was a_good_ girl. She didn't break the rules. She didn't start fights. And she didn't skip school. Even when she had damn good reason.

Staring in the mirror between homeroom and first period, she splashed herself in the face with cold water yet again, scrubbing at her eyes, which felt caked with gunk, and looked like she hadn't slept in days. There were dark circles around them, no eyeliner needed, and she managed a small smile of amusement as she observed that exhaustion accomplished what usually took make-up some applying. Not that it didn't look better when it was make-up…

He watched her as she wiped her face with a paper towel, amused that she had no idea he was standing right there, not even invisible, well within sight. Just leaning inside one of the stall doors, watching her. This chick was the fucking easiest target he could have asked for… But he wasn't even thinking about making a move against her. He wanted to see how long she managed to keep going, before she flat out fell over. He was guessing two more hours, tops.

He continued to stalk her, watching from here or there, as the day stretched on. Impressed when she not only passed his two hour estimation, but made it all the way through her classes, and then, with a grimace and a wince, start walking home.

She never made it, of course. She stopped, just for a brief rest, under a large, gnarly looking tree in a park rose garden, and promptly fell asleep, her book bag still clutched in her arms, her head lolling slightly to the side. She didn't make a sound as she slept, Beetlejuice noted, walking right up to her now, and crouching by her side. Honestly, she looked almost dead.

For a long time, he just watched her. Trying to find some insight into this utterly crazy breather, who by her own words, claimed to love him, and didn't seem to give a damn that he'd planned to kill her. But sleep revealed nothing.

At least not until he stood, and despite supposedly not knowing he was there, she made a small sound, opening her eyes, and looked straight at him. Her lips curved in a soft pink smile, though she never really woke up, closing her eyes again a moment later. It unsettled him, that someone could wake from a sound sleep, see him standing over them, and not figure they were having some kind of nightmare. Even smile.

Shaking his head with a soft grunt, he left her there, figuring that if the kid got herself in trouble, then that was her doing, not his. He had more important things to think about.

Moving back into the neitherworld had always been easier than trying to leave it, but that was one of the cardinal rules of how it worked. You were supposed to be able to get in. You _weren't_ supposed to be able to get back out. For most dead, it worked just fine. But he'd never liked being constrained… Or authority figures. A fact that several such had learned, on trying to constrain him further with his own name.

Standing in what looked like a back alley, but was actually the main road in this part of the neitherworld, Beetlejuice strode absently down the cracked asphalt, pondering who to hunt down now. In one night, he'd eliminated half of the worse scum the neitherworld had. Yet still not a clue. That pissed him off almost as much as something daring to take his memories in the first place, and a hell of a lot more than actually losing them.

Maybe it was time to call in some favors… Not that he actually had any favors he could call in, but he could however, change that. The best favor he could do someone after all, was not killing them, right? His tongue flicked thoughtfully over his lips, and he considered where to visit first. Somewhere that he'd recently left an impression, surely… Since most of his recent memories were gone, maybe that meant he should make a second visit to the few survivors of his last round of questioning.

He started towards a well know club he'd once frequented, long before it fell into the hands of the so-called underground. He'd just go down the list again, he decided, hands in his pockets, whistling cheerfully. Then he'd use his new leverage to get some answers, and then…

And then what? The whistle died on his lips, and he frowned. Punishing the thief with without question. Punishing them slowly. What was in question, was what to do with his lost memories. Did he want them back? Wouldn't it be easier to, well, destroy them, and… His thoughts turned to the girl. He'd seen something in her, once. That was, strange, but fine. What he couldn't stand was the thought of her actually meaning something to him.

He could destroy the memories, start from scratch with her, make sure she didn't get such a strong hold on him this time. Make sure she didn't make him weak. It didn't mean he couldn't keep her, at least for a while. Because the girl was interesting, amusing, and not bad to look at, to boot. Fact was, now that he'd gotten to know her a little, he kinda wanted to keep her around… But the way he was now, or the way he was then?

"Death used to a hell of a lot easier." He muttered to himself, gazing at the nightclub, now in full daylight, and offering no sort of shelter to those within. "Kill people, get money, get drunk. Find a girl with low standards, have a little fun… Decide in the morning whether to let her live, because you don't give a fuck about it either way. No strings."

But about this girl, he did give a fuck, and… Hell, was he really gonna leave her back in that park alone, with any Tom, Dick, and Asshole to have his way with her? Growling, he left the nightclub behind before the thought had really even formed. He made no mistake, he wasn't looking out for _her _best interests, he was simply protecting what was _his_…

The question was, at what point exactly he'd started thinking of Lydia as his…?

--------------------------------

Opening her eyes, Lydia found herself trapped, somewhere dark, a light, clinging weight holding her down. Yanking herself up with a gasp, she threw the covers from her head, her heart pounding, looking around herself without recognition. Where was she? Shadows cast a menacing shape across everything, for the first time in a long time, making her truly afraid of the dark.

She'd fallen asleep beneath that old tree… Utter stupidity. She cursed herself as she threw her legs over the side of the bed, and… Bed? She froze, her feet a breath from touching the floor, and looked around herself again, more slowly this time. Without fear to distort her vision, familiar shapes began to make themselves known. She was in… her room?

Dumbfounded, Lydia shook her head, still breathing hard from her brief panic. Slowly her face dropped, and she pinched the place between her eyes, squeezing them shut tightly. Okay, how much of what she remembered was a dream? For one wild moment, she imagined that Beetlejuice hadn't forgotten her at all, that it was just some cruel nightmare…

Her lips set into a tight line, she sighed, her hand falling away again. No. It wasn't a nightmare. She had no reason to dream something like that. Her eyes turned around the room, taking her time taking in the sights. Everything seemed so unchanged. How could her world have been turned so completely upside down, and yet there was her poncho, right where she always hung it, and there were her thick dark curtains, that always kept out the blinding light, and there was her mirror…

_Beetlejuice_. What time was it? She made a grab for her old clock, the one she had to wind every day, to hear its reassuring, heavy tock, and found what should have been obvious before she reached for it. She hadn't wound the thing in days now… It was silent. Dead. A chill wound down her spine, and she wondered if this was some sort of omen.

Placing the lifeless thing back on her nightstand, she got more slowly to her feet, and pushed open the black-out curtains, her refuge from sunny cheerful days, and found herself looking out into yet another curtain of black, so complete that not even a single star showed its light. Her breath hissed out slowly. Night then. Maybe early morning. Did it matter?

She was reaching for her poncho before the question even really settled, so no, it didn't matter at all. She had to go find him. The red silk, over her school uniform, and as she turned, her gaze fell on the replacement she'd been fashioning, just… She wasn't really certain when. She couldn't get the hours straight. Her head still felt clouded. Had it really only been the night before?

"Priorities change." She noted to herself, surprised how light her own voice still sounded. She took the time to wrap up her work, to stow the needles and pins in their proper places, and then, with her wardrobe thrown wide, to gaze at the heavy roll of expensive silk Beetlejuice had given her, so recently. "In a day," She went on softly, touching the light fabric, "Everything changes."

Enough reverie. She turned back to the mirror, still half expecting to see him within, or perhaps now, to see Ginger. If she had someone to talk to, maybe she wouldn't be so eager to run off into what was undoubtedly a dangerous situation… Though that was probably just another attempt at self-delusion.

As she was about to say his name, pull herself to him, she paused suddenly, remembering that she in fact, shouldn't be in her room at all. She'd fallen asleep in the park rose garden… The only one who would have taken the time to bring her back here, to safety, was Beetlejuice. But the Beetlejuice she knew before, not now. Yet… Her heart gave a massive, swelling surge of hope, and her hands started trembling, at the idea that maybe he still remembered _something_…

Or maybe, maybe he'd even gotten his memory back, since the last time she'd seen him! His name fell from her lips hurriedly, stumbling over the familiar sounds, and she found herself again, yanked into the unfamiliar blackness, the emptiness that had no place in her call for the dangerous ghost… And even as she fell, so did her heart. If this hadn't changed, then no, she was suddenly certain he still didn't remember. But… He would, right? He had to.

The smell of thick smoke filled her senses, almost immediately, but only because it was the more intrusive of the two scents filling the air at the moment. The other was blood. For once, she'd summoned herself to not within ten feet of her best friend, who was currently leaning far into the space of a ghost who looked as if he'd recently been put back together once already. Possibly in a hurry. This ghost was the only one, other than herself, or Beetlejuice, currently still able to move.

Both ghosts were talking in low tones, or at least Beetlejuice was, from what she could see. The other, who didn't seem currently able to blink, much less form cohesive words, just stared, paler than even the dead should be. Lydia dared look away from the two, to turn her gaze around the room slowly. Death for the dead. Everywhere. It made her cold.

It was only when the other ghost noticed her presence behind the poltergeist, that Beetlejuice turned on his heel, fire blazing out of his fist in a twisted, blackened dancing. When he saw her, he frowned… Then smiled, put out the fire, and advanced with a purpose. Lydia didn't have time to shrink away, before he wrapped his still smoking arm around her shoulder, spinning her to be within sight of the unfortunate he'd just been addressing.

"See now, the girl here, she's got a hell of a lot more going for her than you'd think." He informed the ghost casually, as if he were simply introducing her to a long held acquaintance. "She managed, without a memory in my head of the little broad, to not only talk me out of killing her when she called me, but also, to figure out _why_ the hell I couldn't remember her."

This of course, was not quite the way Lydia remembered it, but considering the situation, now probably wasn't a good time to argue. "Presumably though," He added, flashing a grin that revealed every pointed tooth, "The kid's had some experience with that first part… She had to convince me not to kill her the first time we met too, right?"

And this having been said, he turned to her with what could be called nothing less than curiosity, to all appearances forgetting the guy he'd been busy threatening when she came in. "Now how the _hell_," He prodded, with just a trace of amusement, "Do you keep finding me? And in the neitherworld, no less?"

"Um, your name." She murmured softly, not wanting the other ghost to overhear.

Beetlejuice's eyebrows flew up. "Come again?" Now he seemed more thoughtful than curious, as if this was simply a power he hadn't known his name held before. "You got here by saying my name? Now how does that work?"

"If I say your name three times," She explained, still in the same quiet tone, "And I want you to come to that world, you come to me. If I say your name three times, and I want to come to this world, I come to you."

Beetlejuice's lips were pursed thoughtfully, as he considered her with the air of someone accustomed to being lied to. Then he just made a small sound, a sort of _huh_, and turned back to the ghost he'd previously been addressing. "Go figure, now she's rewriting the rules and everything."

"Now!" He released her, and walked back over to the other, who still hadn't so much as twitched. "You can see, can't you, that the kid's still alive, right? Pulse, and everything. So whoever pulled this shit, seriously underestimated her. What's more, they flat out fucking failed. So much for retribution."

Pausing for breath, he leaned a little closer, adding in a lower voice, "Now, if you're not getting any revenge out of this, you might ask yourself what you are getting." A brief wave of his hand, indicating the various dead around them, was most likely intended to answer that question, but for the sake of getting his point across with no misinterpretations, he went on anyway. "You? Anyone you're involved with? Anyone involved with anything in the neitherworld? They get a little visit from me, one at a time, until I get the answers I want."

"To make it clearer, politicians, crime bosses, royalty… If they don't find out what I want to know, they're all going to get a second visit from the grim reaper, and there ain't no neitherworld waiting after this one. Got it?" Beetlejuice reached out, patted his cheek with blood stained hands, and all the guy could do was whimper. "Good. Knew you'd understand. You seem like an intelligent guy… That's why you're the one still dead, and not dead-dead. And why _he's_," He pointed over his shoulder, presumably at the ghost's partner, "Just plain dead."

Great doing business with you." He drew away, straightened his sleeves, and with a flick of his fingers, banished the blood and fire damage from his suit, winking at Lydia. "No need to make a scene on the street, right doll? Come on, lets blow this place."

Hooking his arm through hers, he led her from the room without further ado, making the living girl just sort of drift along in his wake, once more shaken to her core, and oddly numb. She did her best just to look at him, which just seemed to amuse the ghost. After a moment though, she looked away. She felt like she was with a stranger, wearing her best friend's face. The thing was, this was really who he'd been all along. She really didn't know how to feel about that. _Who was he protecting… Me, or him?_

"You know who I oughta be paying a visit to," Beetlejuice interjected suddenly, "Prince Vince. If there's one guy in the neitherworld to have the pull to find out what I want… Hell, maybe he's the fucker that did it. I wouldn't put it past him…"

Lydia blinked in surprise, before turning her eyes to him again. "Um, you killed Prince Vince." She murmured softly, again not wanting anyone to hear. Not that there was anyone to hear. Beetlejuice stopped, flat out, and stared at her in disbelief. "Years ago," She went on, a little more strongly, "When he tried to exorcise you, and marry me."

"Years ago, huh? He made a thoughtful sound with his tongue. "That would have made you… What? I don't even know. A kid, right? Why the hell would he wanna marry a kid?" He shook his head, completely ignoring the part about his attempted exorcism, and started walking again, before he stopped suddenly in his tracks, and started cursing profusely.

"What is it?" Lydia asked in alarm, starting to draw away.

But Beetlejuice just snagged her back, grinning, even as he continued to swear for upwards of thirty seconds, before apparently running out of things to say. "Damn it, Lydia! Don't you get it? That had to be the biggest damn mark I've ever made, killing the heir apparent of the neitherworld, and I can't even fucking remember it!" But that said, rather than looking angry, he started laughing, leading her forward again. "Shit, I wonder what else I can't remember…?"

Nice that it was amusing to him, but… "Well, when you find your memories," She said quietly, looking hopefully at her ring again, "I guess you'll know." But Beetlejuice's only answer was to give her a long look, his lips curled in amusement. He didn't say a word.

--------------------------------


	5. Broken Limits

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Okay, um… I'm not gonna call it smut, because it's not descriptive enough, I don't think. But it is what it is. And I'm not gonna explain how there could be smut, with the warning he gave her. You're just gonna have to read it. I almost didn't get anything up today, I have honestly tried my best, and my brain feels more than a little fried. That warning given… :) Enjoy. It had to happen sometime… He is definitely not thinking of her as a twelve year old girl, anymore. But you already knew that… right?

----------------

The girl was stubborn. She hadn't gone back to the living world when the sun rose, not this time. Presumably she could do that on her own. Instead she walked along beside him with a sort of casual air, as if they were simply going on a pleasure walk, her eyes fixed absently before her. He wasn't sure she noticed when her hand, on reflex, closed around his. He didn't mind though. It wasn't so bad.

Their sides actually almost brushed, she walked so closely to him, her gaze lidded against the neitherworld gloom, an odd little half smile formed on her lips. Nothing shook her for long, apparently. She still waited outside the door while he asked his questions, but when he emerged, she greeted him with a tolerant little look of amusement, as if simply determined that nothing the poltergeist could do, would faze her anymore.

She was still wearing the little school-girl uniform from the day before, with its swaying checkered shirt, and thing white blouse, barely concealed beneath the poncho she always seemed determined to hide herself under. All of these were specked with blood now, but he couldn't really be sure if she'd noticed. She gave no sign. There were smears of ash and grime on her cheeks as well… She looked like a neitherworld street kid, like he'd been once. Only with any haunted, furtive, or hardened shadows to her eyes. She seemed positively, light hearted. And it made no sense at all.

Lydia came to a stop beside him at that moment though, catching her reflection in a pane glass window, and made a little unhappy sound with her tongue. "God, I need a shower!" She informed no one at all, running her fingers through her hair, a wry twist to her pretty mouth. She said nothing, he noted, of him needing one, despite the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he'd bathed.

"B…" Her eyes turned to him, and he saw that for a moment, she'd forgotten the distance between them. Forgotten that he'd forgotten. "I'm running on empty here. All I've eaten in days is a pancake, I haven't bathed since this started, and my teeth feel really gross right now." A small pause. "Is it okay if I head back for a while?"

His lips turned down a little, not because he cared either way, but because she seemed to be looking for his blessing. "You think I care?" He pointed out bluntly, only to see her, not quite wince, but more fold into herself a little, as if, oh yeah, now she remembered. "Seems like you know how to find me, right? And I know_where _to find you…" He didn't point out that she'd really just been holding him back, since if that had meant a damn thing to him, he would have chased her off hours ago. He could afford to take his time.

"Yeah…" She managed a smile, and oddly enough, it seemed genuine, even fond. "Guess there's no running from the ghost with the most, right?" Her eyes gleamed, and a strange little laugh fell from her lips, unnerving him a little. "Not that I've ever tried, but… That's what I'm counting on."

She shoved her careless hair back from her face, considered him with a tilt of her head, and a little purse to her lips. "This is where I'd usually squeeze you until you squeezed me back, but…" There was, he noted, a trace of regret to this. "I don't know, maybe I shouldn't push my luck."

Then she was saying his name, which made him frown again, wondering what she was up to this time. Not calling him with her… She was gone as the last sound left her lips, and his eyebrows flew up in surprise. Apparently there was a hell of a lot to this whole name thing, that he'd never quite caught on to.

Beetlejuice considered the spot where she'd been only a moment before, his brow furrowed a little. "Broad didn't even invite me to go with her." He grumbled, wondering if he should feel slighted. If she was taking a shower, hell, maybe he wanted to watch! He spent a pleasant few moments musing on what she looked like, under all those layers she always wore…

Wait, what the hell was he doing, just standing here thinking about it? The girl was his, right? A crooked grin spread across his face, and before he could change his mind, he was following the girl. If he hurried, he might get to see her all steamy and dripping… That had to be worth getting a few locks reset!

He found himself in her room, and pondered briefly on the layout of her house, before emerging from the door, instantly hit by the sound of running water. His eyes narrowed, wondering if she'd be surprised, the poltergeist found himself rather hoping she was.

Of course he could have just drifted right clean through the door, but instead he turned the knob, giving her warning that he was coming in. A little sound of question came from behind the translucent curtain, and her head poked out, dark hair plastered to her face, puffy mounds of shampoo noticeable here and there. She made another small sound, this one of uncertainty. "B?"

"Don't mind me," He chuckled, leaning back against the sink, crossing his ankles, "You just keep doing what you're doing. Just, shift that curtain a little, all right? I want a better idea what I'm getting myself into…"

Lydia blushed, and ducked behind the sheer plastic thing like it could hide her from his prying eyes. He smirked, well able to make out her supple form through the curtain, but not nearly content with that. Hell, he wakes up one day, finds out he has a girl crazy about him, wearing his ring, and a ghost isn't expected to take advantage of the situation? She must be thinking about some other dead guy…

He took a deep drink through his nose of the scented steam filling the bathroom… Already he could tell it smelled like her. Like pumpkins and cloves, and something vaguely feral. He was content waiting for her to take her shower in privacy… She had to come out sometime. "So doll…" He began, only to be cut off by the girl currently trying not to be seen.

"Babes." She corrected him, a little tensely. His eyebrows flew up, and he made a small, questioning sound. "You always called me babes, or Lyds. Never doll, or girlie, or…" A small pause. "You definitely never called me Lydia."

"Whatever." He waved this away, uninterested. "Fine. _Babes_… What makes a little breather like you fall for a guy like me? You had to have an idea the kind of shit I get into… I'm dead, for god sakes, which would turn a lot of living broads off… And you? You're a hot-looking chick, even by living standards. I ever tell you that?"

A hesitation, and then slowly, Lydia peered out from behind the curtain again. "No." She admitted softly. "You kinda… still treated me like a kid, most of the time."

Beetlejuice just grinned. "Well hell, girlie, I can see you're no kid now." His eyes, dark with something she'd only seen there a time or two before, gave her the impression of no curtain being between them at all… Of nothing being between them at all, not even distance. Like he was running his hands up and down her slick bare form, even as he stood seven feet away, not making a move in her direction.

It made her whole body tingle, and she had to close her eyes against him, drawing back into the imagined safety of the shower, suppressing a shiver. She had to go out there soon, and she had the feeling he wasn't just going to retreat politely, and let her get dressed. Why was that different now? She'd dressed in front of him plenty of times… Well, in her bra and panties, but still!

But this wasn't the same guy she'd known. It was like a whole other Beetlejuice, that swept in, and seemed to have every intention of having his way with her, while the Beetlejuice she loved was missing. And of course, there was that whole, worst possible death thing…

"You should go, B." She whispered, not sure he'd hear her over the sound of the water, not sure she wanted him to hear. "You know it's just gonna…"

"Gonna what, doll?" He prompted thickly. Anger rose in her, frustration, helplessness. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be. Everything had been perfect, going according to some kind of plan, even if it wasn't her plan. She'd been going to spend eternity with her best friend. Someone that could make her blush from head to toe with a single glance.

But as quickly as any sense of defiance rose against the ghost waiting even then for her, it vanished, as she realized that her Beetlejuice or not, that was still him out there, in every way but one. True, he didn't love her. But he was already starting to care about her. And the grim truth was, she didn't know if she'd ever get her friend back, the way he was before.

Despite this, he was standing there, not more than a few feet away, waiting for her. Her fingers closed on the plastic curtain, her eyes opening again, gazing at the steam that swirled and whipped around her. She still had her best friend. Sort of. Maybe, she really could make him love her again. Because god knew she still loved him…

"B?" It was more a whisper than a question. "Can I keep you? Even if you don't remember me?" She didn't expect him to hear, much less answer, but the very question itself made her smile. She'd seen him at his worst now, presumably. She'd been in danger from his hand herself. He didn't even remember her. And she still didn't want to give him up for anything.

A silence, that could have meant he didn't hear her, or could have meant he did. "Say that again, doll?" He prompted after a moment, suggesting that he'd heard something, anyway.

Lydia shut off the water, and pulled back the curtain, trying not to blush as his gaze immediately became more interested. "Will you keep me?" She asked instead, decided that this was after all, what she really wanted to know. He smirked a little, but didn't answer. All she could do was brush the dripping hair from her face, and a moment later, reach for a towel, deciding he probably wasn't going to.

But he caught her from behind as she went to cover herself, his arm around her waist, fingers fanning slowly against her thigh, as his lips dropped to her ear with a whisper. "Somehow, I expected you to put up more of a fuss than that."

She was burning at his light caresses, her head dizzy, her eyes fluttering closed to concentrate on his seducing touch. B had never touched her like this before. Not even Valentine's Night, and the dance that had left her with so many questions. She bit her lip lightly as his mouth sought her soft throat hungrily, a low rumble building in his chest.

"You want me to keep you, babes?" He murmured huskily, tightening his grip on her, just a little. "Show me why I should."

Lydia wanted to protest, she knew she should protest, but all that escaped from her lips was a little moan of surrender, as his hands greedily claimed the soft curves of her, lingering each time where it flooded her head the most. Silky hairs parted to his fingers to reveal hot flesh, as his lips in turn bit and nibbled the nape of her neck, nothing restrained in his demands now. And somewhere in the back of her mind, some trace of common sense that remained, screaming danger…

"B- B…" It was a whimper, and she was surprised she had enough control left for this, doing her best to push his hands away, when losing his touch was the last thing she wanted. "You promised…" It wasn't entirely true, but gods help her, she didn't know what else to say. "You're not supposed to hurt me. You said…"

A low chuckle interrupted her plea. "I ain't gonna lose control of my powers, doll. I got something else in mind for you, right now." His voice dropped to a rich, low rasp, his breath a cool kiss against her flushed skin. "Just calm down… You know I got too many plans for you, to screw it up now."

"Still?" She whispered, not even trying to keep the warmth of hope from her voice.

"Course, babes." He murmured, the breath hissing from between his teeth. "You and me? Far as I'm concerned, we're just getting started. And we got a hell of a lot of time to make up. That being said…" He caught her firmly by the waist, lifting her into the air, and set her easily on the cold porcelain sink, a low chuckle in his throat. "You trust me, right?" His dangerous eyes gleamed.

It was a loaded question, and she was all too aware of it. She trusted him without question, without doubt… As he had been. But now? She searched his features for some sign of the ghost she'd known, her best friend. The man she loved. And it was him. And god help her, with her mind in such a delicious haze, she just couldn't understand the difference. "Yes." She whispered, resigning herself in one instant to whatever he had planned, and for one instant, honestly unafraid.

"I ain't gonna let you regret it, doll." He purred throatily, sliding his fingers between her thighs, and pulling them apart. "Now you just sit there and relax… I'm gonna take care of everything."

It made no sense to her… He couldn't be getting anything out of this. But she just closed her eyes, winding her fingers tightly through his hair, and wondered for one brief, wild second, what the hell she was getting herself into. Then she felt his tongue, cool, wet, coaxing, against tense flesh, and a sound of surprise escaped her. She didn't know what she'd been expecting… But nothing that felt like that!

Warmth blossomed in counterpoint to his cool touch, as he tasted her, caressed her, his fingers tightening on her thighs until it hurt, and she honestly didn't care. He used his lips, those lips she'd tasted a hundred times, and never known what they could do… His breath fell against her, and when she could only squirm in response, a low moan falling from her lips, he just laughed.

This was what he wanted, some sane part of her suddenly realized, he wanted to make her crazy. He wanted her to surrender control to him, and be driven by him to depths she couldn't have imagined, and then… Then she'd be even more his than she was now. She knew it, rationally, for one instant, and then she didn't care.

Long, slow strokes of his mouth, as she continued to heat beneath him. His fingers would probably leave bruises on her legs, as he fought to control his own lust, and it didn't matter. Her whole world pounding to the beat of her pulse, which even now was ripping its way through every vulnerable part of her body, filling her head with its song, as he pushed her closer and closer to madness.

There was one, brief moment, where she faltered. Where she remembered that it wasn't him, the him that she'd known so long, the him that loved her. And then the pressure in her loins returned with a rush, too quickly to even think about refusing it, and her head fell back with an almost silent gasp. She was left trembling, vulnerable and raw, and she closed her eyes as he still didn't relent, drawing every last wave of pleasure from her treacherous body that he could, before she simply fell forward, folding into his arms, her bare body small and helpless against the strength of him. And he held her like a thought, a small smirk curling his lips when she lifted her eyes to him…

But there was something else there too, in his eyes. More intense than before. And she felt one wild surge of fear, as she realized how much more he wanted her now, than he had before. How little was standing between him, and his taking his own wild pleasure out on her. Some hair thin thread that didn't seem strong enough to hold them apart.

And yet he just reached out, touching her hair so gently, that self satisfied smile still in place, as he took in the flush of her cheeks, the glow in her eyes. It was a stranger looking at her, and yet she swore she saw something of the ghost she knew in those eyes… She swore, and just tucked herself into his embrace, surrendering to him completely, her cheek supported in the groove of his shoulder.

"Now what was that you said," He whispered, a gravelly tease to the words, "About keeping me?"

Lydia drew in a slow breath, filling herself with the scent of him, tinged on all sides by the scent of her own body's pleasure, and closed her eyes, whispering softly, "Can I keep you?"

But once again, Beetlejuice just chuckled softly, and didn't answer.

---------------------------------

She couldn't look at him without blushing. And she couldn't stop looking at him. It was ridiculous.

It was maybe even more ridiculous that they were sitting there in her parents' living room, she'd never thought of it as her own, the ghost with the most lounged across her father's chair like he owned it, flipping through channel after channel with the remote. He never stayed for long on one program, ever the short attention span, but this was the first time she'd ever seen him watch television. It was so utterly normal, that it was bizarre.

Of course, the truth was that Beetlejuice wasn't really watching tv at all, he was just killing time until his next 'appointment,' and trying to get his mind off how good the girl watching him had felt under his touch. He knew where that feral scent came from now, because that was how she'd tasted. Feral. Wild. And he shifted, again and again, trying to get comfortable, as the memories bombarded him without mercy. God, that girl was already getting under his skin… And he didn't even know if that bothered him, or not.

_No wonder the broad had me tied up in knots_, he grunted to himself, finally flipping the television off, and throwing the remote to his apparent fiance. _Gotta be careful with that one…_ Of course then he made the mistake of looking at her again, and immediately a slow blush grew across her face, warmth and adoration positively pouring off her smile, her eyes suddenly shy. And god help him if it didn't make his own lips twist in a smile…

She was his now, forget who he'd been before, the girl belonged to him, the way he was _now_. He was sure of it. That had been the whole idea of course. It was all unfolding pretty clearly now… He did want to keep her, just as she'd said. For a while anyway. And he sure as hell wasn't content to sit around and wait to find his memories, before he coaxed her to the next level. The problem with that of course, being… He'd have to kill her. Just the once, but it couldn't be helped.

Well, it wasn't as if he hadn't been planning to do it before, right? She even said so. He'd have to get more details about what exactly he'd had in mind… But whenever he did it, he knew that was the moment he'd seem to make himself vulnerable enough for his mysterious enemy to strike. And that was when he had to strike back, hard. He'd only get one chance. But as far as he was concerned, that was as good a reason to kill her as any other.

_Too bad,_ he mused lazily, stretching out in the comfortable chair, _kid had her whole life ahead of her. Oh well. _He refused to acknowledge the little niggling distaste at the idea of making that warm flesh grow cold. It was necessary. And the girl didn't even care. He tried to remember if she'd actually said so, then dismissed the very question angrily. What did it matter, anyway?

Lydia wasn't certain why his face had suddenly turned sour, and reacted pretty much without thinking, standing and moving over to his side to offer comfort. Her fingertips dropped to his roughly shaven jaw, and he blinked, then looked at her with a frown. She didn't care. She was over being scared of him. Her touch slid to the back of his neck, and she moved into place behind him, giving a light, lingering squeeze.

For just an instant, he tensed under her touch, but as the gesture was repeated, and repeated again, he slowly relaxed, apparently deciding that it didn't feel half bad. Her thumbs stroked the ridges of his spine, the rest of her hand applying gentle, stroking pressure to the stiff muscles under her palm. "You never answered my question." She pointed out quietly, not willing to ruin the mood, but still wanting an answer.

"What question was that, babes?" He muttered, a little annoyed to have his massage interrupted. But the simple fact that he'd called her 'babes,' the way he used to, made her press on.

"Will you keep me?" She whispered, dropping her face to almost within an inch of his neck as she asked him. His skin twitched under the warm breath, and he tensed again, just a little, before relaxing with a chuckle.

"Sure, doll." He agreed, a trace of humor to the words. "Can't say one of us won't change their minds… I ain't certain it won't be you. But I see no problem with it."

Lydia rolled her eyes, and gave him a little push, drawing away from him. "'Keep,' is supposed to mean forever." She pointed out dryly, while he frowned in her general direction, trying not to smile. She wanted forever? Hell, the girl had no idea what she was getting into. She was what, seventeen? At the most? Yeah, she had a real good grasp of how long forever was…

He kicked the recliner down, and without rising to her bait, pulled himself to his feet with a slow stretch. "I'm outta here." He informed her bluntly. "Keep in touch, doll. You got that nice big mirror in there… Don't come looking for me this time." This last was with a distinct sense of warning, as he eyed her significantly. "I'm gonna be dealing with some nasty business, and a breather like you might just get snuffed out in the process. Got it?"

Lydia considered him, he looked openly hostile, as if daring her to argue with him on it. But all she said was, "Still protecting me, B?" Very softly.

"You're mine, Lydia." He growled quietly. "We both figure that one, right? Well if you're gonna die, it's not because some clueless lackey got in a lucky shot… It's gonna be me that does it, just like we planned. And I'm gonna make sure to do it right."

There wasn't really a ready answer to a statement like this, all she could do was purse her lips, nod, and wonder what a sane person would say about such a statement from a guy. Maybe she was as crazy as he was… And maybe, it didn't matter either way. "Don't be gone too long?" She murmured, moving close enough to him to plant a light kiss on his cool cheek.

He just looked at her oddly, shook his head, and was gone. As the neitherworld formed around him, he rubbed the back of his neck, considered his surroundings, and shrugged. Fact was, he needed to get away from her for a while, before she started messing with his head, as bad as she apparently had before. And in the meantime…

Beetlejuice pulled a crumpled up piece of paper out of his pocket, smoothing it against a twisted looking lamppost, and narrowed his eyes at the scrawl crossing its face. It was a list of names, several with a thick bold line already drawn across their face. He was running out of people to question…

For the first time, it occurred to him that he just might not fucking find whoever stole his memories. If he ran out of leads after all, what was left? Just drawing them into the open, by making it seem like the right time to give him back what was his… And hell if he wanted to play this by their game.

But there were still a few names left on his list. Hell, maybe a few people he hadn't thought to add. He wasn't out of options yet. He drew a blood whip out of his pocket, sucked on the sugary end, and narrowed his gaze at the sky. Time to get creative.

And the ghost with the most was nothing, he thought with a chuckle, if not creative…

--------------------------------


	6. Inevitable

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

'Ravens Land,' is by Voltaire, I don't own that either.

----------------

Okay. You knew it was coming. Sorry I didn't update yesterday, like I planned to. Sorry again, for... Well. You knew it was coming. Quick note, something I already mentioned to one of my reviewers...

I gotta admit, as jealous as I am of Lyds for growing up with Beej, and despite the fact that I feel sorry for her losing him as much as she has, I'm also a little sorry for the way she's strung together. (Not that I wrote her that way, but that she is) Bright and happy, despite all that comes, yes... But kind of just drifting along on life's coattails. Making the best of things, but not really trying to change them. B's the best thing that happened in her life, and that's pretty much why he's the first thing she's willing to fight for... Personally, that's as much a reason as any that this story has to be written this way, I think.

And yet...

----------------

The rain pounded down outside in heavy sheets, the sound of thunder ripping the air in such a way that lightning promised to be close. It was an odd sort of music, and yet other than this, the girl's room was silent. She lay so still, the blanket tucked around her like it was supposed to keep her safe, her black hair tumbling over her face like a mourning veil. Her soft pink lips, utterly soundless.

He was just checking, mind. He'd been gone for almost two days, and like some kind of itch, it'd gotten under his skin to make sure she was all right. Which of course pissed him off, not that he wasn't already in a pretty foul mood to begin with, stemming from his lack of progress.

The fact was, most of the people who could, conceivably, be responsible for the attack against him, were now dead. Those that weren't, were only still alive because they were very hard to get to. And so he seemed to have come to an impasse. And for a moment, just a moment, he found himself seeking comfort in the company of a breather, currently sleeping. When she couldn't see that he'd missed her.

Beetlejuice sat lounged in an oversized red chair, unable to escape the fact that it smelled remarkably like himself. As if he'd spent a lot of time this way. His eyes narrowed, his fingertips playing with the crusty stuff on his throat, his lips settled into a little frown. Shadows draped everything. And yet he had no trouble making out the picture he held in his hand.

It was actually only one of several he'd discovered earlier that day, tucked into various places around his house, his office, other places he frequented. This one was of her when she was younger. Just a kid, really. Grin wide, eyes filled with excitement… Holding up a cat that was undeniably from the neitherworld, and looked as if it had seen much better days. Like it was cute or something. His handwriting, once again, scrawled across the back, offering this or that tidbit.

They were memories, captured moments described by his own hand, and the fact was, that he'd only spent the first few hours of his absence doing any sort of 'questioning.' The rest of the time, he'd been hunting down these photos, bizarrely obsessed with what had been stolen from him. It was like looking at flashes from someone else's afterlife… Only it wasn't someone else's. It was his.

The words across the back of this picture were simple, straight forward._Lyds finds the weirdest fucking things 'adorable.' One of these days, she's gonna use that word for me. But there's no way I'm keeping the fucking cat, and she knows it._ Adorable. There was a word that should never be used in the same sentence with his name.

"Lydia?" The voice was quiet, sort of hesitant, and cut through his brooding with a serrated edge, making his mouth contort in fury. He was on his feet, ready to face off whoever had dared to interrupt him, paying no mind to the fact that it might be her family. He was ready to kill… He really didn't care who. If the girl loved him, she'd deal with it.

Brief inspection revealed no immediate culprit, but then, even as she spotted him, and tried to duck away, he saw the female ghost in her mirror. Her mirror, where only he should rightly be. He crossed the distance in two strides, reached through the glass before she could retreat, and pulled her hard against the frame. Even he couldn't pull her through though, so it was most likely, uncomfortable.

"Give me one reason not to crush you, bug!" He snarled, deliberately keeping his voice low, so as not to wake the girl. The spider trembling in his grasp, her lips moving, but no sound coming out. "You better have a fucking good reason for being in my girl's mirror!"

"Y- you told me to look in on her, when you're not around, Mr. Beetle-" He shook her once, hard, cutting her off. Even though Lydia was the only one with power over his name anymore, old habits died hard. He didn't like people saying it. "Mister, sir!" She went on, more franticly. "Make sure she didn't get in trouble!"

Beetlejuice considered her, slowly. It was entirely possible that she was telling the truth. If she was going to spend time with anyone else, he'd probably want to hand pick them, and make sure as hell they were terrified of him, first and foremost. Keep them in their place.

"Have you gotten you're memories back, mister?" She pressed on, more quietly, eyes wide and worried. "I mean, you calling Lydia your girl again, and everything… She's all right? You ain't hurt her?"

Before he could answer, there was a slight stirring behind him, and Lydia rose from her sheets, half asleep, to see the poltergeist standing not far from the foot of her bed. "B?" She murmured tiredly, her voice sounding rather like a small child's that hadn't gotten enough rest. "What're you doing here?"

"Just having a little conversation with the bug, here." He growled, releasing the spider slowly, so Lydia could see her. "Seems to think she's got a right to be here, or something."

Lydia rose from her bed, clad in a swaying swath of dark gray, and approached the two of them unsteadily. When she saw the spider in the mirror, she smiled, just a little. Her face did not light up, he noticed, like when she saw him. Satisfied by that, he waited to see what would happen next.

"Honey, I was trying to tell him!" The female ghost hurried on, looking at Lydia like some kind of saving grace. "See, after you and me were looking at silk, I ran into him, and he made me promise to look in on you when he wasn't there. Make sure you weren't lonely, or nothing!"

A small frown touched the girl's lips, followed almost immediately by a smile. "B doesn't like to share, Ginger. But it doesn't surprise me, he'd want a way to keep on eye on me, even when he wasn't around. I wondered why you showed up in my mirror, after the trouble he caused before…" She rubbed her hand across her eyes, seemed briefly to forget what she was talking about, then look at Beetlejuice again in surprise, like she'd forgotten he was there. "B? Is everything okay?"

At this point, they were both interrupted by a heavy French accent, drifting from the other side of the mirror. "Gin-ger? Who ees it vou are talking to?" A rather gaunt man appeared behind her, considering the mirror with an odd look. "Some-vun in zee living vorld? Vhy vould-?"

"Jacques!" The spider, Ginger, looked positively giddy with nerves, and darted away from the mirror, seeking support from her skeletal friend. "You know, you just reminded me, I got this shoo fly pie in the oven, and I'm pretty sure I smell it burning… See you later, Lydia!"

Before the skeleton could rebut, the mirror was empty again, leaving Beetlejuice a bit bemused, and wondering if he'd grieve killing her, if he ever got his memories back.

Lydia though, chose this moment to drape into his arms, absolute warmth and yielding softness against him, clad only in the light material that was quickly teasing at his fingers, making him abruptly forget the other ghost. She looked up at him adoringly, eyes lidded by heavy lashes, and tucked her cheek against his coat with a murmur. "It was sweet of you, B. Even if you don't remember it."

"Guess that's the kind of guy I was." He muttered, not displeased by her praise. "Sounds like bullshit to me, but what the hell do I know?" Lydia laughed, and it surprised him, only because he didn't think he'd ever heard her laugh before. At least not in memory.

But she pulled away from him in the same breath, ran her fingers through her hair carelessly, and tipped her face up, as if to greet an invisible sun's warmth. She looked like she must have been having very pleasant dreams, and there wasn't much that was going to pull her from the glow of them very easily. He wondered, not quite idly, if they'd been about him…

She turned her gaze back to him, a question there that she didn't offer aloud. Instead all she said was, "I'm still sleepy… Will you stay with me?"

Beetlejuice gave a little smirk, figuring she'd have to be half asleep to ask something like that. "Afraid not, babes." He drawled, tugging a strand of her loose black hair, "Still got a few things to sort out, and… Well, you're just a little too tempting, know what I mean?" He took a step back, and adjusted his sleeves. "I'll be in touch, babes…" And he was gone before she could protest.

Babes… It did suit her, didn't it?

--------------------------------

She hadn't been able to get back to sleep after Beetlejuice left, no matter how tired she claimed to be. That didn't explain though, what she was doing here. Pacing slowly along the length of the block, the rest of the world still caught in the grip of night. Her feet soaked from walking through puddles. Looking up from time to time, towards the stone building, still glowing with light.

Her parents had never been what she'd call religious, and since her own discovery of what the afterlife held, she'd pretty much given up on any ideas of god, and been fine with it. Let her put her faith in something she could see, touch. Why give some invisible all seeing eye control over her life, when she had so little herself?

And so again, that brought the question of what she was doing, pacing the streets before the church, torn over the idea of whether or not to seek comfort within. If there was a god, would he care either way about her prayers for a killer? Much less the prayers of someone who didn't really believe?

The simple fact was, she was used to relying on someone bigger, stronger than her. Someone to look out for her. It wasn't god, but… The person she was used to relying on, wasn't really there right then. She wanted something to believe in, and for the first time in a long time, didn't really know where to look.

And so that was the reason she was here, when any sane person would still be sleeping… But she didn't go in. How could she? If there was a god, he wouldn't listen to her. He listened to saints and good people. She was neither. Not really.

Lydia bit her lip, turning her face up to the twisting of the storm clouds overhead, and considered the meager light of the struggling moon. This wasn't her place, and she knew it. She didn't believe in heaven, or even hell. She'd seen too deeply into death for it to hold that kind of mystery. And for the first time in her life, she wondered if that was actually something regret. A sort of, loss of innocence.

"Maybe there is a heaven waiting out there for other people," She whispered to herself, finally turning on her heel, and leaving the still building behind, "But not for me." She expected to feel crushed by this realization, but instead she felt oddly freed. Her forever wasn't some big unsolvable thing. It wasn't really that different from life. There was no punishment, no reward… Only making the best of things.

And Beetlejuice. Thinking this, she turned not back towards home, but towards the church's cemetery. Death was the only constant she knew. The smell of the it, the way it hung in the air… If there was a god for her, it was the god of death.

_Wonderfully morbid, Lydia_, she mused to herself, with an ironic twist of her lips. _Shall we try for another gothic stereotype while we're at it? Maybe set up a bat-shaped altar on a tombstone, and pray to the heralds of darkness?_ It actually made her feel better, reflecting on the humor of things.

But then she was among the low stones, fifty years old, a hundred, and a sense of solemnity settled over her. Her fingers traced the granite of a statue that had long since fell into neglect, an angel now apparently weeping tears of greenish mold, moss covering up her lips, her head still bowed in prayer. Chunks of her wings broken away, fallen in ruin at her bent knees.

"I should have brought my camera." Lydia noted to herself, admiring the oddly poetic headstone. She wanted a picture of it…

The cemetery was actually filled with an impressive array of such examples, decrying the futility of holding onto life. Names worn away by time, headstones cracked, and never repaired. Mounds of dead flowers, left to lay and decompose with those they'd been brought to honor. It was somehow very comforting, being surrounded by the dead, as she'd spent so much of her life.

Of course, these were just bodies, not really the dead themselves… But she was gripped with the sudden need, if not to take pictures, then at least to draw. Unfortunately, she didn't have any paper… But there had to be some somewhere. Maybe in the church? Maybe in the grave-keeper's shed? She ran her tongue over her teeth, and wondered where she should check first.

In the end, she really didn't want to look in the church, so she wandered the cemetery grounds under she found a dilapidated building, surely for holding tools from a time when digging the graves had been done by hand. There was no lock, but the door's hinges were rusted tight, and it was only with some force, and a peppering of red dust, that she managed to get it open. Even then, just enough to squeeze inside…

It was a little surprising to find the small room cast in a low light, when she expected it to be pitch black. A small lantern, no more than six inches high, sat on a time scarred table, lending its flickering flame to her surroundings. It puzzled her only briefly though, before she realized suddenly that someone must use this shed after all, and if she didn't hurry, they were going to find her where she didn't belong.

The squat building was filled with boxes and old tools, along with stack after stack of yellowed newspapers, and crumbling magazines. It was more by chance than effort that she found the slender notebook, in little better repair than the rest of it, its pages water stained and torn, but for her purpose more than serviceable. An old charcoal pencil, resting on the table next to it, more than served. Like, they were waiting for her.

Back from the stuffy confines of the shed, into sweeter air, and for a moment, a chill of unease ran down her spine. She was glad to leave it behind, if not entirely certain why. Either way, she ran her fingers up the opposite arm, smoothing goosebumps, notepad and pencil gripped firmly in her other hand, and reflected briefly on whether or not this counted as stealing.

It was a simple thing, to find her way back to the angelic statue, but then of course, she discovered the true problem in trying to draw in a cemetery at night… It was simply far too dark.

Lydia couldn't help it, she laughed aloud at her own short-sightedness, and then gamely set to drawing anyway, even though she could barely see the lines on the paper. She did consider saving the pages, simply because they were so aged, and anything drawn on them would only be heightened in its sense of, well, gothicness, but at the moment, it was all she had, and she planned to use it.

Once she set to her given task, she found herself slipping into a sense of calmness, soothed by the comfort of the darkness, and a familiar pastime to occupy her mind. The quiet of the graveyard was interrupted only briefly by the sound of early crickets, and the occasional low fluting of night birds, as well as the constant, cool whisper of the wind. It was a good place to clear her mind. She should have started coming here years ago.

But of course, she'd had better places to be. In her sketch, which became marginally more visible as her eyes adjusted to the dark again, the cemetery and its stone took on a somewhat distorted feel, as if here, where the dead left their former selves behind, was some sort of lingering border between her world and the neitherworld. Straight lines became crooked, shadows took on more menacing forms, and the light, when it cast, seemed otherworldly.

A low hum fell from her smiling lips, some neitherworld tune she couldn't remember maybe, or a living world song that she'd somehow deemed just as good. She thought it was called, 'Ravens Land.' She couldn't remember who it was by, but she'd always liked the concept. _Ravens land, upon her hair, clouds adrift on, her skin… a smile that tugs, upon my soul, whispers gently, in my ear…_

She must have hummed it through three times, most of the words escaping her after the first, before a small sound in the darkness told her that something else was there with her. The tune died on her lips, her body suddenly still as she listened for the sound to be repeated. She wanted to ask if it was him, her Beetlejuice, but the words caught in her throat, and she just stayed there, very still, on her knees in the dirt. The hair on the back of her neck tingling.

Slow, muffled sounds of footsteps, moving through the cemetery. Despite herself she winced, certain she wasn't supposed to be there, and wondering if it was too late to make some sort of escape. Holding her breath, she rose without a sound, and focused on moving as silently as possible through the field of ancient stone.

Something caught her foot, and she sprawled, biting her lip on the cry of fear and surprise that threatened to rise in her throat. She hit, dark, and blood seeped into her mouth, even as she lifted her gaze, to find herself almost nose to face with a tombstone. That could have been nasty… Just a step further…

_It smells like him_. A rush of memories made her head briefly dizzy, as she reflected that she'd once compared the way Beetlejuice smelled, to a timeless, standing stone. And it did. It smelled like him. She closed her eyes briefly, savoring that smell. Drowning in a young lifetime of memories.

But that was a mistake. She suddenly became aware of the footsteps again, closer this time, and rolled to her back, to look behind her, before pushing herself to her feet. Her legs felt weak now, her hands trembling. She was scared. Not scared of being caught where she shouldn't be, but honest to god scared. Why would someone else be out here this late? Why was _she_ out here this late?

Abandoning all efforts at quiet, she hit the ground running, weaving among the granite monuments, the night as a whole suddenly far too quiet. It felt like a bad dream… Her own footsteps, drowning out those following her. Running from the thing in the darkness she couldn't see.

It was only a matter of time before she fell again, this time sprawling forward far less luckily, and clipping her arm, hard, on a stone cherub. She couldn't stop the sound of pain that burst from her lips, or the tears that pricked at her eyes, further blinding her in the already dark night. Covered in dirt, tasting blood, and scared out of her mind…

"You shouldn't be here." The words were, soft. But wrong. She turned on her knees to see the shape looking over her, baleful eyes watching her from not ten feet away. He came no closer, not yet, but something about his face seemed angry. "This is my place, you shouldn't be here."

"I- I'm sorry." She murmured, feeling foolish, vulnerable, and above all else, still scared. "I'll go, I just…" She shook her head. Just what? She brushed her hair back, leaving mud caked among the strands, and did her level best just not to look at him, getting to her feet. "I need to go home anyway…"

No sooner had she turned her back on him, than he caught her by the shoulder, hard, and threw her forward. Again she fell against a headstone, this time hitting the side of her skull, instantly filling her head with pain and sounds that shouldn't be there. Left dizzy by the blow, confused, she tried to get to her feet again, not yet realizing the danger she was in.

"This place is mine!" The stranger roared now, grabbing her by her hair, and throwing her again. This time her vision was flooded by hints of white and red, and she suddenly realized just exactly what was going to happen if she didn't get away… He was going to kill her. She didn't understand why, she didn't know who he was, but if she didn't get away, she was going to die.

So this time she stumbled, rather than falling, keeping her feet with a strength she didn't know she had, and did her best to run. It was useless though, her sense of direction could barely tell up from down, and she hadn't taken three steps before she fell again. This time she felt a powerful jolt as her arm hit the ground, and a resounding crack shot through her skull…

Thoughts of escape gave way to mind numbing pain, and she lay there, stunned. Unable to comprehend what she suddenly knew she couldn't deny. And he grabbed her again, flinging her over, and…

"Beetlejuice." It was a whisper, and it shouldn't have made him pause the way he did, looking at her without comprehension. She coughed, tasting blood, blinked to clear her vision, and said it again. "Beetlejuice." And again he just stared, before his face slowly grew dark, as if she were mocking him. He was ready to hurt her again, but it was too late. She'd already said it a third time. "Beetlejuice…"

"What the hell…?" Snapped a familiar voice, in the brief seconds before the poltergeist saw the position she was in. A truly mad snarl ripped from his lips then, and he grabbed her attacker from behind, managing to cup the top of his skull securely enough to wrench him off by it, and flinging her attacker, as she'd been flung before he arrived.

The ghost was on him again before he could get up, picking him up without effort, and bashing him, hard, against an obelisk of black marble. Again, again, again, he smashed her attacker against the stone, until the cries of pain stopped, trailing into whimpers and murmurs, and again, again, until every bone in the guy's body had to be broken. Then he threw him to the ground, and with a grunt, lifted a headstone that read _loving mother and wife, _and smashed it down on the stranger's head, with a sickening sound.

Lydia didn't really see much of it, still reeling from her own injuries, but she heard every sound, and it was only when she knew that her attacker was well and truly dead, that she relaxed. But as it turned out, Beetlejuice wasn't done yet.

With a stabbing hand, he reached into the new corpse, twisting his grasp, and pulled the man's ghost free of his body, before it had the chance to journey to the neitherworld on its own. And he proceeded to methodically, violently, batter him into pieces again, until there was nothing left to hurt her, in this life or the next…

And then he turned to Lydia, who was by now, recovered enough to only have eyes for him. He growled, still not appeased, and stalked towards her like a predator, stopping a short distance away to take in her appearance. "I don't suppose you're willing to heal me?" She whispered, managing a small smile.

An answering, slight more wry, smile twisted across his own lips. "What? I don't get so much as a thank you, babes?" Then, more pointedly, "Hell, I can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?"

Lydia wasn't really sure how to answer this, and after a moment, turned her gaze to her assailant's two corpses, before looking back to Beetlejuice again. "Thank you?" She murmured, before falling suddenly into giggles, pretty deeply in shock by this point.

"Glad you still got your sense of humor, babes." Beetlejuice murmured, reaching down to take her by the arm, the broken one, and lifting her to her feet, the limb no longer injured once he'd touched it. Likewise, the throbbing pain in her head vanished… Even the sharp sting where she'd bitten through her lip. She was fine now. Sort of.

But Beetlejuice still didn't look happy, a somewhat possessive, frustrated set to his mouth. "I leave you alone, you're gonna end up getting yourself killed, ain't you?" He muttered, looking at her like there was actually something else he was saying. "So maybe I should just take care of that little business now, so no one else can do it when I'm not around."

Lydia's giggles died in her throat, as she suddenly knew what he meant. She stared at him, wide eyed, her short life flashing across her mind. Most of it of him. "You ready, kid?" He murmured, suddenly giving her the impression that, unlike the ghost he'd been before, he was not nearly as willing to give her the choice.

Slowly she turned her head, looking around the graveyard. Looking up to the sky. The sun hadn't even risen yet… A wave of sadness swept over her, at the thought that she'd never see the living world sun again. But fear? No, there was no fear… and really, no hesitation, as she sighed, and nodded.

She didn't look back at him, only aware of his hand upon her arm, and a sudden, cold flare across her skin, that made her grit her teeth. It couldn't have been painless, that sort of thing didn't happen. Her mind spun, thoughts of her parents, of school, of people she barely knew, flooding every inch of it. Thoughts of the life she could never get back, if she didn't stop him now. And the gradual realization, that she couldn't if she wanted to.

Beetlejuice pulled her into his arms, her hot blood spilling unchecked over his suit, considering as the sadness in her face was replaced with a sense of resignation. Watching as, seconds after he'd made the little cut, the quickest way he could think to kill her, her face was already far paler, and her eyes turned up to his. As her hand sought her chest, in some pain maybe, from a heart that suddenly didn't have enough blood. Her lips parting, to say something…

No sound emerged. It was over so fast. Too late to regret it now, too late to go back, and bring her back to life. Too late to do anything but heal the small cut, no more than an inch in length, before her final breath fell. She was still perfect.

With a far gentler hand than he'd used before, he reached into her cooling form, and firmly caught a handful of spirit stuff, not quite converted to the form she would hold now, for the rest of eternity. He drew her forth. Like her living body, her ghost body too was still, quiet. But not quite solid. It would take a while for the transition to be complete. He lifted her into his arms, and stood, a little battle going on in his chest, over what he couldn't change now.

But he stood there anyway, looking down at the broken shell that had held the only girl to ever love him, never mind that her true self now rested in his arms, and had the sudden, undeniable realization, that he would come to regret what he'd just done. Too late to go back, he wondered if he'd pay for the rest of his afterlife, for putting out this girl's flame.

Making a small sound of derision, trying to deny what he didn't know for sure he ever would feel anyway, he looked down at the sleeping goth ghost in his arms, and considered her. She was perfect. In death, just like life. "You ready, babes?" He asked her unresponsive form, tucking her more securely against his chest. "Time to go home."

This world had never been good enough for her, anyway…

----------------------------


	7. Trial

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Well. Not a lot of Beetlejuice in this… directly. But it is a little bit of a glimpse into Lydia's personality, and what sort of length she's willing to go to… Also, just what was waiting for her, as far as questions she'd been dwelling just the night before. I'm not saying that this_is_ what's waiting, mind you… Just what she found.

Heck, if I knew for a fact what was waiting, I'd probably have a lot less trouble getting a publisher's attention… Though they'd probably just label me as crazy. Of course, they'd be right… But for different reasons. Heh. Short, yes, but at least I didn't keep you waiting another day, right?

----------------

It wasn't heaven… On the other hand, it wasn't hell either. Neither of which she'd really expected, mind, but she had expected, something. Something more than this.

Lydia stood gazing off into the horizon, surrounded by waves of golden grass, brushing to the height of her knees. She felt oddly disconnected, aware of a thousand scents that filled the air, a multitude of colors, and not really able to focus on any of them. She'd been wandering for hours, feeling out of place, in this place that she simply couldn't comprehend existing. She was dead now, she remembered that well. She should be with Beetlejuice. Instead, she was… here.

The wind picked up again, blowing from a different direction this time. Or maybe she'd just crossed over her own tracks again, and lost all sense of which way was which. The latter was probably more likely. Yet she was restless, pressing on. Eager to find something familiar. Eager to find _him_.

Gradually the sound of rushing water teased at her senses, and without any real conscious decision, Lydia turned that way, eager to see something that wasn't just waving grasses, and endless horizon. Rivers always led someplace, right? She vaguely remembered that from one of her classes. She couldn't remember which one. To a town, to a harbor… To a sea.

As she approached, the rush of water grew stronger, and she swore, the already deep night sky began to darken. While walking for hours in random directions had brought no change, she suddenly knew, without question, that reaching that river would change everything. It made her skin prickle with cold and heat, but she still didn't slow, in fact increasing her pace to reach the water.

And then there it was, before her. To call it a river was laughable, it had to be a hundred miles wide, it was more like a stretched out sea. She could see all the way to the opposite shore… And nothing beyond that. It seemed that this was as far as she was meant to travel. There was no way beyond that. The spray from the foaming, furious rapids caught at her, as she advanced a step closer, still urged by some unknown force to venture on, and uselessly, futilely stuck on this side of the shore.

A sudden, solid, resonating sound, like the heavy clap of stone against stone, ripped her from her reverie, and set her spinning on her heel, gripped with the sense that her heart should be racing in fear… Only now of course, she was dead. Her heart would never beat again.

In the same moment that she realized this, she found herself standing before a great marble podium, long benches on either side, robed figures that dwarfed her like some small child, all watching her now. She could see nothing of their features, some eclipsed by shadow, some drowned in light too brilliant to see past, some simply vaporous things that seemed to have no form at all.

"Order!" The most looming of them boomed, cracking his stone gavel down again, this time with a sound like thunder. "I will have order!" No one, Lydia noticed, had made a sound, to explain this outburst. "We are here to settle the case of Lydia Deetz, versus the Afterlife… Will prosecution come forward?"

Lydia's stomach was somewhere twisting in the depths of her guts, what should be her heart, all twisted up in her intestines. Court? She was on trial? For what? She looked around desperately, only to find that the moment she turned away, she was back at the river's edge, looking off into forever. The safest thing to do at this point, seemed to be to remain facing this way…

The heavy, solid 'crack' again, and she spun back, to face her judge and jury. The tall one, that would have dwarfed ten feet, easily, and the six to either side of him, many watching her with positively hungry eyes. Judge, jury, and executioners…

"Will the prosecution please come forward?" The judge boomed again, some sense in the depths of his fluid light, indicating that he was losing his patience.

"_The prosecution is here, your honor_." Murmured a silky voice, all dark chocolate and wet velvet. The one in question was dressed in a long, flowing robe, that didn't seem to actually end when the material itself did, twisting on until it ended in black flames, licking at the stone.

"_We are here to prove that the defendant, one Lydia Deetz, did knowingly, and with full willingness, not only walk alongside the murderous path of one… Beetlejuice… But also, just this last evening, forfeit her own life, far before the appointed time_." A small pause, to let this sink in. "_Both of which, may I remind the court_," A slow gesture of shadowy fingers, "_Are seen fit to be punishable, by this court of law_." Another slow gesture. "_And, ladies and gentleman, we all know the punishment I refer to_."

A low hiss built up amongst the jury members, while others shook their head, loosing low rumbles of protest, and shifting uneasily in their seats. Thus far, as she counted, six were for her, six were against her. _A trial by thirteen_, she suddenly thought, giddily, only to realize that the words offered themselves forward from her mind, as easily as if she'd spoken them. For a moment, everyone there considered her, as if she were some particularly feeble child. Great, now she was afraid to think…

"And does the defendant have representation as well?" The tall one pressed finally, allowing her one small breath of relief, before it occurred to her suddenly that she didn't know if she did. And he seemed to be looking at her for an answer…

"_This One,_" A low voice suddenly interrupted, oddly enough making every specter there shift in surprise, "_Will serve as the child's defensive council._"

Lydia lifted her head, turning in relief to see who it was that offered to speak to her, only to pause herself in uncertainty, at the utterly unassuming presence of her 'attorney.' He wore faded black robes, simple cloth, not stuff woven of shadow or light or fire, like the rest of them. They fell around his feet, around his hands, even his face, but in such a way that there was nothing mystical about it… He was simply hiding himself. Beside creatures that might be called divine or demonic, he seemed almost human.

The great one finally seemed to have recovered well enough to speak, looming over them in such a sense that he suddenly seemed twice his former height. "Why would one such as you, defend one who has so thoughtlessly defied laws set down long before by this court… As well as yourself?"

"_Our reasons_," Her defense murmured, little more loudly than a whisper, "_Are our own, and not the concern of this court. We are offering defense for this child… Unless of course, she wishes to refuse it?_"

The hooded face twisted slightly in her direction, still revealing nothing of the speaker's features. Unable to think of a proper response, Lydia just shook her head. She didn't want to be without some defense, at least… And clearly, this guy was more than he seemed. "_Then,"_ Her lawyer murmured, clearly satisfied by this, "_It is settled. Should we not begin?_"

Again, a low rumble, and several hisses of dissatisfaction, though none had of yet, offered a single word she could understand. The prosecution made a small, soothing sound, raising his hands against he court in a bid for silence. "_It makes no difference, who represents the defense,_" He murmured, giving the impression that beneath the twisting flames, he was smiling, "_It cannot be denied what has been done, that this child has walked a path of murder, and-_"

"_Objection_." Her attorney denied calmly, still never raising his voice above a whisper. Lydia was both relieved, and a little surprised. So soon?

"On what grounds?" The judge demanded impatiently.

"_On the grounds that the child has certainly walked beside one, yes, who has walked a path of murder and destruction…"_ He pointed out, also giving the impression of smiling. "_But at no point did she contribute to that path herself. We submit that this Lydia Deetz has never lifted a hand against any, either in anger or malice…_"

"_I submit the evidence of one Prince Vincent!_" The prosecutor boomed, looking triumphant. "_Where the defendant did willingly lift arms against one only carrying out our own law_!"

"_As we in turn submit that the weapons lifted, were not used against the prince, or his guards._" Her attorney countered easily, still seeming in nothing less than a positively pleasant mood. "_Nor was any attempt made to wound or kill by them. Their only function in said confrontation, was an attempt in freeing one… Beetlejuice._"

Another shifting, as those before her seemed to settle through this, deciding how much merit the words contained. "_We further submit, that this child has not only never caused pain or death of her own doing, but had indeed brought a sense of stability to what was the afterlife's most pressing… ah, danger. Arguing in the defense of his victims on more than one occasion._"

"_And on more than one occasion, simply prompting his anger to escalate further!"_ The prosecutor roared, suddenly all pretenses of civility gone, as the room crackled and snapped with his anger. "_The multitude that would be alive now, if not for that girl's presence…!_"

"_Was never due, directly, to her actions, or interference._" The defense countered easily, all courtroom protocol now thrown out the window as they continued to counter and reprimand each other, all without once asking the judge's permission.

Which did not go unnoticed, by said judge. "Silence!" He boomed, shattering through both their counter-arguments, and leaving the courtroom itself tingling with the residual force of his yell. Lydia however, merely ran her fingers along her arms, smoothing the bumps there, a great deal more confident in her representation. Clearly the guy knew what he was doing… "I will not have a mockery made of my courtroom!"

"_With all due respect,_" Her council interjected, just when it seemed the worst possible time for anyone to speak, "_For the child to be brought before your honor on charges that have nothing to do with her, beyond acquaintance, already makes far more a mockery of your court, than either of us could ever do._"

A chill ran down Lydia's spine, in the silence that followed, but her attorney, it seemed, was not yet finished. "_Shall we leave such pointless weighing of crimes, not committed by said mortal soul, to such a time when the proper defendant can be brought, and move on with the further charges? Or are we so frustrated with our own ineffectualness, that we must punish an innocent, for the crimes of one we have long since lost power over?_"

Making the entire court, judge and jury, furious with them, did not seem like the best approach to her. To a last, their silence, lingering upon his words, seemed to bode ill for both of them… But as not one spoke up to offer counter to his words, he simply gave that impression of a smile again, and as if it were that easily decided, moved on to the next charge.

"_Now, regarding this child's willing forfeit of her life, long before this court's appointed time set for her mortal end… We ask if you have forgotten the individual in question, who ended said mortal life?_" He brought his long sleeve's together, in a sense of templing his fingers, though nothing revealed itself through the cloth, still. "_Who among you, really believes she had any say, in the poltergeist's action, this previous night?_"

Again, silence followed. But this time, her attorney let it rest there, until finally, the judge, not the prosecutor, spoke up, his voice quieter than before, but more intense as well. "So what you would have us believe, council, from beginning to end, is that Beetlejuice is the one at fault for all charges that have been brought against this child… And even those with which she complied willingly, were by this reasoning, still not her own fault?"

At this a low murmuring, different from before, rose up among those seated before them, and oddly, still her defense added nothing in the way of, well, defense. Therefore, the judge's next words, were addressed to her. "Do you, Lydia Deetz, take no responsibility in the charges that have been leveled against you… Claiming instead that the poltergeist is fully at blame? Even in your own actions? And your acceptance of his?"

The whole world was quiet, watching her. At least that was what it felt like. She imagined an enormous spotlight, trained on her, and even though it was nonexistent, still found herself sweating under the imagined heat of it. Was she responsible for Beetlejuice? No… Not exactly. But was she responsible for her own actions? Was Beetlejuice in fact to blame for…

Well, no. He wasn't. She wouldn't let him be blamed, for what she'd known for a long time, she was getting into. "Beetlejuice is responsible for his actions." She denied softly, hurrying on to say, as a sense of triumph rose up in the court, from whom she could not see, "And I am responsible for mine! I'm not a doll for him to play with, and decide my actions for me! If I hide my eyes, it's because I chose to! If I forgive him, it's because I love him, and don't give a damn what happens to the rest of the world!"

Suddenly, the air around her was filled with crackling, angry blue sparks, red waves, and ribbons of purest gold… But her defense attorney was laughing, enthusiastically, genuinely. "_And so your honor, the plan of this court has failed! The girl will not hold Beetlejuice responsible for her own actions, regardless of the charade played out before her!_"

He lifted his hand now, and the folds of his cloak fell away, to revealed blackened bone, etched from some manner of gleaming stone, as he leveled his hand against the judge. "_You, who have long since lost power over condemning the poltergeist for his own actions, would have had him condemned instead for the actions of this girl… But she has defied you! As for the charges against her_?"

The creature, whatever, chuckled, still apparently endlessly amused. "_While they would have been deemed worthy of conviction for the poltergeist himself… They offer nothing for you to use against this child. This mockery of a trial is over!_"

A low roar of fury built up, this time from both sides of the jury, even those previously in her favor, only to be silenced by the heavy crash of the judge's gavel. "And where would you have her placed?" The tall one roared, just as angry as those gathered around him. "She is undeserving of heaven, whether or not she is acquitted of the charges that would condemn her to hell! Would you have us send her back to him?"

A soft sound of amusement, not quite a laugh this time. "_That, your honor, is beyond your power to decide as well. The girl has already made peace with her own fate… And that faith she holds in her eternity is more powerful than any sentence which you could pass against her_."

With that, before any could counter him again, her defendant grasped Lydia by the shoulder, and spun her, so that she was facing the endless river again. This time though, there was a low slung boat waiting before her, and while it didn't seem possible for it to hold its own against the angry rapids, Lydia's hopes rose at once.

"_And so you see, Lydia Deetz,_" The figure beside her murmured, less than an inch from her ear, "_That every prayer, no matter how carelessly spoken, is heard. You wished to hold loyalty to death?_" And here his voice dropped, just a little. "_Then we too, will look out for you, child. Go. From here, your path to him will be easy. After that, it is your own struggle._" And like that, before she could even thank him, he was gone.

All that was left was the river.

--------------------------------

The girl still hadn't woken up yet, and it had been the better part of a day. He shifted, again, not having really moved from his seat since bringing her here, and laying her to rest in his own coffin bed. He hadn't thought it would take so much time… But he should be the first thing she saw, when she did finally awake. Just the thought made his lips twist in a smile.

But his amusement didn't last long, and after another hour passed, and the girl didn't so much as stir, he sighed, getting to his feet, and looked around with the room in discontent. God, there was nothing for him to do, to pass the time here. Maybe he should buy a fucking tv.

For the next hour after that, he paced the length of the little, bare room, occupied only by his bed, a chair, and three boxes of old papers. Occasionally he kicked one, hoping to dislodge some creepy crawly that he could hunt down, amusing himself with a little insect-inflicted torment, but despite his long absence from said room, not so much as a feeler dared to show itself. He never had had much trouble with bugs…

A sound from behind him made him spin, ignoring the way his heart surged upwards in what was far too human and vulnerable an emotion to ever admit to. Lydia? She'd turned in her sleep, that was all. Fury swept over him, and he stormed to the end of the bed, gesturing angrily with his hands, while he let loose a choice curse or two about how much damn sleep a person needed…

She opened her eyes, turned to look at him in puzzlement, and blinked, effectively ending his tirade. "Did I make it across the river?" She murmured sleepily, the words making the hairs on his arms tingle, though he didn't know why. "Oh…" She looked at him again, and actually seemed to see him this time. At least judging by the way her features split into a smile. "B. There you are."

"Here I am." He grunted, not sure what the hell she was talking about, but eager to move on to something else. "So how's death treating you so far, babes?"

"He was really nice." She murmured enigmatically, her smile broadening for a moment, as she stretched slowly. Only after that did his words seem to actually make sense to her, and she pause, her lips parting in surprise, her eyes widening. "Oh… I'm dead."

He supposed in her defense, it had been a hell of a long time since he'd crossed over, so maybe he didn't have a real good grip anymore, what those first few moments of realization felt like. That being said, he was getting impatient, fast. "No kidding." He muttered, crossing his arms, and giving her a somewhat dirty look. "So what, feel any different?"

Lydia's hand immediately went to her chest, and after a moment, she nodded. But she didn't say what he'd expected. "Relieved." She whispered softly, "And… Not as warm."

"Relieved, huh?" He considered the possibility that she'd completely lost her mind when he'd killed her, then dismissed it, and managed a small, amused smile, as he sat on the edge of the bed. _His _bed. "So ain't nothing keeping us apart now, huh babes?" He murmured, reaching out to play with one of her silky tresses, and encouraged by her immediate, pale blush. "Gonna have to do something about that, real soon…"

She didn't seem to have a proper response to this, but certainly didn't protest as he drew her into a long, possessive kiss, his mouth claiming what was his, without hesitation. This time, he did kiss her more gently, only because he knew that her new spirit flesh would be raw still, and well… No point screwing things up now.

Her face was radiant as he finally released her, her eyes still closed, her pretty pink lips absolutely beaming. "B…" She whispered, barely a breath. "I knew I'd find you…" While he didn't know what to say to this, he did know an opportunity when he saw one, and came back in quickly to reclaim her soft mouth with his own. It was enough, for now.

There'd be time for more fun, later… All the time in the neitherworld…

--------------------------------


	8. Devastated

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Ermmmm...

----------------

The shower looked as if it hadn't been used in years… The thick layer of dust over everything attested to that as much as anything else. Whenever it had been used last though, it had been far longer since it had been cleaned. Mud caked the bottom. Mold grew over every tile, until their pattern was indistinguishable. But the only feature that really mattered to her, the flow of water itself, was very good, and she was grateful for the chance to get clean.

She'd turned the water as hot as she could stand, desperate for some lingering memory of warmth, when already it seemed like she'd spent her life in the grip of a chill she couldn't quite shake. Beetlejuice, surprisingly, let her shower in peace this time, though her mind had already been playing over the idea of him joining her for a little, well, fun. That was the whole point in dying, wasn't it? She wasn't afraid, or anything. She'd been waiting for him forever…

But, him. Not_him_.

She was caked with mud, along with various degrees of filth, which had followed her from her death in the graveyard. She dwelled on this, finally, wondering how it would be explained. A complete lack of blood, versus no wound. People were going to think they were dealing with a vampire… Or maybe that was just what she would have thought. But her blood was there, right? Just soaked into the ground. And then there was the question of the second body…

The truth was, she didn't dwell on her parents, on their loss, nearly as much as she knew she should. That being said, she was pretty certain that they wouldn't even notice she was missing, until someone found her body. She wondered, with a sense of detachedness, how long that would take.

Slipping on the natty bathrobe Beetlejuice had given her, probably white at some distant point in the past, Lydia tied it securely around her waist, her lips set into a little frown. She wondered where he'd disappeared to. Well, technically, he'd said he was going to pick up a couple things for her, but… Who knew what he meant by that? She hoped he found her roll of silk… She should have said something about it.

Therefore she was stunned, on leaving the bathroom, to step into Beetlejuice's bedroom, hers too now, she supposed, and see it flooded with maybe everything she'd thought she left behind. Rolls of material, piles of clothes, sketchbook after sketchbook of pictures, photo albums, her dresser and mirror… Even her bed, tucked into a corner, resting on its side.

And Beetlejuice, looking smug as anything, sitting on top of her wardrobe, his feet propped up in midair, considering her with a waggle of his eyebrows. "Who says you can't take it with you, babes?" He prompted dryly, making a slow, delighted smile spread across her face. Though that did, again, bring up the question of what her parents would think…

"B…" She whispered, wondering for one wild moment if maybe he'd remembered everything, and was now going to make good on his promises of forever together. But just for one moment. Then she shook her head, reminding herself that if he had, he probably wouldn't rest it on her guessing… Nothing would keep them apart.

Therefore, he'd done this even without much memory of their time together. He'd done this for her, just as he knew her now. And it made her heart sing. She ran across the distance between them, real hope in her heart for the first time since that night he no longer knew her, and pretty much catapulted herself into his lap. Never mind that he was about seven feet off the ground.

He looked mildly surprised, but that was the extent of his reaction, as she threw her arms around his neck, and began applying as many kisses to his throat as she could. After a moment, he shifted a little under her touch, like he was getting uncomfortable, but when she finally looked up, meeting his gaze, she saw quickly that he was anything but. "Better watch it, babes." He warned, his voice a throaty rumble. "Ain't nothing keeping me from having my way with you, now."

Lydia smirked, an expression she didn't often have occasion to use, and lifted herself a little in his arms, pressing her lips to his without hesitation. When he tried to kiss her back, she drew away, then came back in to offer another light, teasing kiss to the first, drawing away before he could respond once again.

When she met his gaze, now, he looked angry, and about one step from crushing her to him, hard, and fulfilling his 'threat.' She just smiled, slowly, and whispered, "You always did say that you were the ghost with the most, B. Don't you think that might be a little too much for me?"

The look in his eyes changed, abruptly, and he let out a low cackle, grabbing her around the waist, and crushing her mouth to his. His tongue demanded entrance, rather than teasing it, and he bit her lip, just hard enough to make her squeak, before suddenly pushing her away, and dropping her without ceremony to the floor. "You got a long way to go, babes," He informed her, in no uncertain terms, "Before you can beat me at this game." But he was, she noticed, smiling as he said it.

Lydia just grinned, not disappointed in being 'bettered.' It felt like things were going… well, if not back to the way they should be, then on at least, into something _new_, that should be. "B…" She giggled, not really even noticing the long drop he'd offered her, which she'd taken easily in stride. "You always could make me happy."

An odd look crossed his face at these words, sort of a puzzled expression, but he chuckled to cover it up, and dropped down beside her, sliding his arm nonchalantly around her waist. "Babes… You're gonna have to keep house for a while."

Now it was her turn to frown, but Beetlejuice feigned not noticing, just going on easily, saying, "I still got a few leads I gotta follow, and well, fact of the matter is, you'd just be in the way." He dropped a kiss on her ear, now ignoring her look of frustration. "You can keep yourself entertained, right?" He figured he could get away with just about anything, with this broad…

Irritation and amusement struggled for top notice in her eyes, but she finally just smiled, shrugged, and noted easily, "Like you could stay away." He snorted, twisting her black locks around his fingers, before pushing her back away, in that manner he'd developed, straightening his sleeves, and looking pointedly towards the door.

"Guess I'll have to bring you back food… You're still gonna want that." His tongue flicked across his lips, and he considered her, still weighing his departure in his gaze. He made her feel naked, the way he looked at her… It probably didn't help much, that all she was wearing was one of his old bathrobes. But his face split in a slow grin, as he admitted, with just a little bit of a rasp, "Babes, I ain't gonna be gone any longer than I have to. And then you and me are gonna make up for some serious lost time."

And before she could even think about tempting him into staying, he was gone… And she was alone.

-------------------------------

Beetlejuice adjusted his cufflinks, squinted his gaze skyward, and let out a little sound of thought, before turning back to the ghost before him, currently in two pieces. For now, he addressed the right half. "Seems like I'm running out of options then, doesn't it, Scythe?" He'd known the guy for a long time, though they'd never been what anyone would call friends. More like, mutually respectful of the other's power. Until now.

"The thing is," He went on, scratching at a patch of dried blood on his wrist, "I don't get it. The girl's dead, right?" The glance he cast in the assassin's direction was almost casual, nonchalant. "So the big plan has unfolded, and… hell, if there was supposed to be more than that, it's not gonna happen. I like the broad. Damn if I know why, but I do."

"So why, if her death was the whole point in this little game," He leaned in to the mercenary's space now, his fingers tightening like steel on his shoulder, "Haven't my memories been returned to me? Is it pretty much now just an effort to drive me crazy? 'Cause I gotta tell you… Not a real long drive."

He chuckled at his own joke as he leaned back, sat on the guy's couch, and pulled a tarnished silver flask out of his pocket. Taking a long draw, he held it out, with a little twist of his lips, to the guy beside him. "Peppermint schnapps, your favorite."

Scythe gave him a long, measure look, then accepted the flash, held it up to the light, and swished it for a moment, before holding it under his nose, taking a whiff. His eyes grew longing, almost fond, and a moment later, he tipped the drink back. Half of it dribbled out of, well, where he'd been cut in two, but he was used to that.

When he handed it back, his eyes were calculating, if not entirely unsympathetic. "I gotta tell you, Beetle. The girl was making you soft. People were talking." He ran his fingers along his lips, licking them to catch the last drops, and regarded the poltergeist, with his usual brooding interest. "So what made you take so long to come to me?"

"Finding you." Beetlejuice growled, his feign of pleasantness gone. "You're just about as hard to track down as whatever idiot I'm hunting. You're not the kind of guy people talk about real loosely."

"Not like you?" It was, oddly, the other half of him speaking now, the lips curved in something menacing, nothing like a smile, but with decided amusement. "Seems these days, all a person has to do to find you, is call your name… One person, anyway." His voice switched to the other half of his body, as his fingers fanned across the table before him. "And now, you want her back. Why? I figure you'd just say good riddance, and move on."

Beetlejuice's eyes narrowed, becoming angry green slits. "Someone stole from me." He said simply, his mouth set into an angry line. "Tell me you wouldn't be doing the same."

"We're not that much alike, Beetle." He denied, reaching into his pocket, and drawing out a yellowed slip of paper. "For example, tracking me down is the first intelligent thing you've done, going about this. Unless you're planning to pull some sort of coup over the neitherworld underworld… And that much responsibility isn't really your style."

"However, it is mine." Both halves of him were smiling now, as he waved the little piece of paper against his chin. "Are you going to contest me for it, now that you've done most of the work?"

"I could care less." Beetlejuice growled, wondering if what he wanted to know what on that paper the guy was twisting so carelessly between his fingers. He had to do this right. The guy had his answers, he knew. If he went for the paper, and the name he was looking for wasn't on it, then his chance was shot. And no amount of 'questioning' would get an answer, not from this guy. He loved pain. "You want responsibility for a bunch of idiots and hired goons, that's your thing."

"Yes, it is." Scythe agreed, looking satisfied. The paper went back in his pocket. "Aren't you going to ask how I know what you don't?"

"Wasn't gonna, no." Beetlejuice growled, doing all he could to keep his patience now. "You'll probably just mouth some shit about how it helps, being in two places at once." For a moment, Scythe's eyes darkened, both of them, and a stare drew on between the two. Will, not power. They both knew Scythe held all the power here. This was simply a matter of who could be more stubborn.

But in the end, it was the other ghost who relented, that not quite smile returning to half his mouth. "Something like that." He agreed easily, the two halves of his body shifting closer together, so that their raw sides almost touched. "But the fact of the matter is this Beetlejuice… I _want_ you to get your memories back. Why? Because I _want_ you soft."

It was a challenge, a goad, and under other circumstances, Beetlejuice might have risen to it. Instead he just considered the other ghost as evenly as possible, wondering what the real catch here was. Not the underworld, he could take that on his own. Beetlejuice was, yes, the only one who could stop him, but he had no reason to. Making him soft? They both knew he didn't have to take the memories back… That wasn't what this was about. This was about revenge, plain and simple. And Scythe would know that.

"What's your game?" Beetlejuice asked at last, his voice painfully even, his teeth gritted in something like a death mask. "You want me soft? Bullshit. What do you really get out of this?"

Now, now his smile was genuine. "Personal satisfaction, Beetlejuice." He informed him softly, making no bones about saying his full name this time. "Though it's never meant much to you, it's always frustrated me to no end, that you're the stronger of us. Put simply, I'm willing to tell you what you want, because I want to see you fail."

After his words, a weighty silence hung between them, and then suddenly, a little madly, the other ghost laughed, standing, and offering Beetlejuice his hand. "Yes, by all means. Get your memories back or not, as you see fit. I don't care. All that matters to me is you knowing who took them."

Beetlejuice looked down at his hand, and slowly accepted it, well aware that the paper would be passed into his palm. As soon as it was, he scowled at the other man, yanked his hand back like he'd just touched something nasty, and claimed the paper that held all his answers.

When he read it though, there was no following sense of satisfaction, only a slow, churning heat, deep in his suddenly hollow gut. Maybe it made sense. Maybe it didn't. In the end, it didn't matter, he was suddenly certain it was true.

With a furious sound, he turned on Scythe, and while the other ghost laughed his ass off, proceeded to rip him limb from limb, grinding him into what amounted to little more than a puddle on the floor, before he was done. It wouldn't kill the other ghost, of course. That was his one power… He simply couldn't be killed, always regenerating, no matter how severe his wounds. That, and a love of pain, as well as an unquestionable madness, made him all but unstoppable.

Beetlejuice couldn't do a damn thing to him, and he knew it. At this point, he was really just venting. But it had to be _him_. The one person in the neitherworld with enough power to keep himself high and dry, and out of the poltergeist's reach, for the better part of an eternity. However he'd managed to kill the guy's son, had to have been more luck than planning. And now…

And now he had to figure out a way to deal with the biggest fish of them all. Prince Vince's father. The king of the neitherworld…

--------------------------------

Lydia was exhausted. She'd been 'keeping herself busy,' working for hours to organize her many things into the, presumably, formally empty room. She managed with strength she didn't know she had, to maneuver her bed next to Beetlejuice's coffin. The dresser and wardrobe had gone side by side, against the far wall. And then she began tackling the mess he'd made of her things.

Truth was, she'd been needing to sort through this stuff for a while… She was a real packrat. Half her clothes didn't even fit her anymore, and a lot of the rest of it was beyond repair. But they were all memories of the life she'd left behind, so each and every thing, no matter how insignificant, found a place to rest. Her poncho, back where it had always hung, on the post of her bed.

Maybe she was being presumptuous, setting things up the way _she_ wanted, without asking B how he felt. Of course, she was really just passing time. If he wanted the stuff somewhere else, he'd move it with like, a flick of his pinky. The thought made her smile.

Of course, she was also taking stock of just what he'd brought her. Her clock. The jewelry box from her grandmother. Was she in the neitherworld too? No, no, she _had_ been a religious woman, and that court…

And here she stopped, trying to remember just what had happened at that court. She remembered some of it very clearly, like the words that Death had whispered to her as the end. Other things, like her trip across the river, she couldn't remember at all. But most of it fell somewhere between, like she'd been in some kind of dream-state… To tell the truth, now that she was 'awake,' she wasn't entirely certain that it hadn't been a dream after all. Except…

Except that the memory still filled her with such conflicting emotions. Protection. Fear. Certainty. Warmth? Definitely danger… And no matter how she tried, she just couldn't convince herself to forget it. Maybe with time, she'd believe it was a dream. But not yet.

With her things in place, she began tackling the bigger mess of the house… There was dust everywhere, even on the floor. Grime and soot covered every inch of Beetlejuice's few simple things. He seemed to like odd knick-knacks… She hadn't known they had that in common. But then, she'd never been to his house before. She wondered if she should have mentioned that…

Taking a piece of fabric too small to do anything else with, Lydia began dusting. Though, dusting might not have been the right word. De-filthing, might have suited it better. She started in the bathroom, because, well… Because she wanted her next shower to be in a slightly cleaner environment. Of course, since she had no cleaning supplies, it would be a half assed job, no matter how much effort she put into it, but well, Beetlejuice didn't seem to own a tv, and she needed something to keep her busy.

By the time the shower alone was done, hours must have passed. When she opened the shutters that held out the light in his bathroom, it had fallen into night again. She wasn't really sure of the time. Her skin itched, and she really, ironically, needed another shower. Instead she tracked down a broom, which looked very old, and still unused, and began sweeping.

It was silly of course. Obviously he didn't mind living in filth, but if she was going to live with him, she kind of liked the thought of him coming home every day, to a house just a little cleaner than he'd left it. "Keep playing happy homemaker, Lydia…" She muttered to herself, trying not to breathe in the stuff she was disturbing on the floor, "Pretend you actually know what's gonna happen next… Damn!"

She fell into a fit of coughing, sneezing, and with watering eyes, went to another window, and flung the shutters open as well. There was no air in the place… Never mind that she didn't need it, it was still nice to breathe!

_I don't need it_… It was a fleeting thought, and rather than upsetting her, almost made her laugh. God this was ridiculous. Death was supposed to have more of an effect on a person than this. After all, she'd only died the night before, and here she was, cleaning her new room, like it was the most normal thing on ear- well, in the neitherworld!

She didn't really have anyplace to sweep the grime, so she swept it into nice little piles, in the corner of each room. She straightened his boxes, not looking inside, certainly not reorganizing anything, but made more of a path so that it was easier to move from room to room. Not that she wasn't curious what he'd spent the last few centuries hoarding…

Before she knew it, there was light streaming in the slatted windows, and she moved instinctively to close them, thinking her fiancé, what a wonderful word, might have reason to have had them closed. He didn't have curtains after all…

And then, just as she was seriously considering taking that second shower she'd been putting off, the front door flew open, and there stood Beetlejuice. She started to move towards him, intending to greet him with a hug, when she faltered at the expression on his face. He looked angry. Deeply angry. And as if he didn't even see her, standing right there in front of him.

He moved past her with a low grumble to leave him alone, heading into the kitchen, and with only a little hesitation, she followed. He poured a glass of water, downed it in two gulps, and smashed the glass down so hard that it broke… Which certainly explained the many piles of glass she'd cleaned up over the course of the night.

"B?" She murmured, moving up behind him, but deliberately not reaching for him yet. "Is everything all right?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" He snapped, his voice like ice. "Just leave me the hell alone… I need to think." He turned on his heel, as she didn't immediately retreat, ready to yell at her if she didn't let him brood in peace…

Only to pause, his eyes sweeping over the room, which was now markedly cleaner than he'd left it. At first he gave no reaction, but then slowly, his eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. "What the hell did you do?" He snapped, suddenly ready to turn whatever anger he'd been dwelling over, on her.

Lydia paused, surprised, and suddenly uneasy. "I just swept, dusted… Passed some time." She murmured, as he stood there shaking his head, looking visibly frustrated, and as if he were currently trying very hard, not to take his anger out on her. She remembered, with sudden heartbreak, a time when he wouldn't have even had to try… But he was _trying_. That meant something, right?

"What else did you do?" He muttered at last, sort of under his breath, stalking from the kitchen like a ghost on a mission. Lydia followed, not sure what else to do. This wasn't the homecoming she'd expected. She didn't think he was really angry with her though… What had happened while he'd been gone? She wished he would just talk to her…

Every room he visited seemed to make him more upset than the room before, and she was already expecting a full on explosion, when he saw how she'd arranged the bedroom. Instead he just sort of, stopped in the doorway, his mouth twisting in a frown, as he turned to her. "I didn't think it would bother you." She murmured, not sure if this was an apology or not. "I wanted to make things nice for when you got home…"

"_My _home." He growled, his voice unflinching. "Not yours." Lydia had no answer to this, just staring, not willing to accept what he'd just said. This, wasn't her home too? He scowled more deeply at her lost expression, rubbing his temple with one hand, and turned his back on her, deliberately. "Get out." He said softly. "Get out of my house."

"B- B…" Lydia whispered, starting to approach him, only to be cut off by his sudden, sharp glare, as he lifted his head again. She swallowed, trying to meet that gaze, that suddenly had nothing of her friend in it. "Please don't make me leave, B. I've got nowhere else to go."

"I don't care!" He hissed, narrowing his eyes at her, but deliberately not moving from his spot. "It's not my problem, _you're_ not my problem. Just get the hell out of my house, before I make you leave!"

It was, ridiculous. He'd just killed her, so they could be together, and now he was making her leave. He was, just upset, that was all. Not at her. But if he was feeling so unbalanced just then… She probably should leave. At least, that was the part of her mind that was determined to make sense of this was saying. The rest of her just felt betrayed, abandoned, and suddenly, horribly, alone.

She turned without another word, and ran from him, fleeing the bedroom, running out the front door, into the gloomy day. Rain clouds had started to gather at some point, casting an even deeper gray over the neitherworld's usual sort of dreariness, and Lydia didn't even notice. She kept running, down the street, around the corner, on and on until her strength suddenly left her, and she had to lean against a brick building for support.

And then she looked around, and realized that she didn't know where she was. She'd never been in this part of the neitherworld before, probably because Beetlejuice lived here. And at the moment, she didn't even know how to get back to his house anymore.

Biting her lip against tears, her shoulders sagging, she tried to figure out what to do. She needed to get somewhere she knew… But she'd run out of the house without any money. She was filthy, tired, and lost. She needed help.

Wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, she started walking again, looking for a payphone. She had the feeling that this was a bad neighborhood, it just had that sense, but so far, she hadn't seen a single person on the streets. As if something had just swept through the whole neighborhood, more terrifying than dying itself, and frightened them all into hiding.

She had to walk seven blocks before she found what she was looking for, and even as she felt at least a little relief, at the thought of hearing a familiar voice, new worries began to rise. She didn't have money for a phone call. She didn't even know who to call. She didn't know anyone in the neitherworld but him…

No, that wasn't true, she knew Ginger too. But after everything Beetlejuice had done to her, would the spider even be willing to help her? She'd only befriended her at all for fear of the poltergeist… right? Lydia stood there, her fingers on the thick gray pages that sat before her, listing name after name, street after street. How did one even look up 'Ginger, the tap-dancing spider?'

Page after page turned, from hopelessness, if nothing else. She even looked up Beetlejuice, unsurprised not to find him listed. And then back to the search. There seemed to be thousands of Gingers in the neitherworld… That only made sense, she supposed. Even with other afterlife options, a lot of people had to end up here, and Ginger? Well, it wasn't that uncommon a name.

She actually hesitated a bit with disbelief, at a half inch ad, right in the middle of the page she'd just turned. 'Ginger, the Tap-dancing Spider. For all your tap-dancing needs.' Just that, and a phone number. But why here? Why not under entertainment, or…

It didn't matter. She had a number. Now it was all up to whether or not the girl would accept her call. She picked the phone up, and with a lump in her throat, pressed zero. It rang twice, before someone picked up. "Neitherworld operator." A decidedly male voice stated boredly, surprising her. "How may I direct your call?"

"Um…" She really didn't even know if this was how things worked here, "I'd like to make a collect call to Ginger, please?" Her fingers traced the number as she read it off, then waited. After a moment, he told her to stay on the line. She wasn't ready to feel relieved yet.

Then he was back on the phone, in that same, annoyed with the world voice, asking, "Your name, please?"

"Lydia." She whispered. When he explained that he couldn't hear her, she said again, louder. "Lydia!" Her own frightened voice echoed off the empty buildings surrounding her, sounding far too loud in the still, silent street. "Please, tell her it's Lydia."

That was followed by another pause, this one far longer, before a sudden buzzing filled her ear, making her heart sink. Had she been disconnected? Had the guy not even bothered telling her that the spider's answer was no? Then, amazingly, the static cleared, and she heard a small, puzzled voice on the other end. "Lydia? Is that you, hon?"

The knowledge that someone actually gave a damn was too much for her. Lydia started crying. Instantly she heard Ginger's voice, soothing her, pleading to know what had happened. Still actually giving a damn. The story came out in half uttered sobs, and finally, Ginger got the gist of it. "You what? You need a place to stay, sugar?" Her first, visible hesitation. "Well see, I got a roommate hon, and I don't want to get him into any trouble…"

At this point, there was a sound of, what, she didn't know, but the next moment, a decidedly male voice was on the phone instead, murmuring in a thick French accent. "I vill hear none of theez, Ging-er. If ze lady needs some-vere to stay, zen she will stay vith us, oui?" The next was to Lydia herself. "Ging-er, she 'az told me of your troubled story, mon petite. I vould be honored to, 'ow you say, make your company."

Another sound of movement, this time with low arguing in the background, and then Ginger was on the phone again, sounding worried, but resolved. "It's settled, hon… You tell us where you are, Jacques here will pick you up. All right?"

"Thank you." Lydia whispered, well aware that she'd never be able to repay either one of them for the kindness they were offering, or the risk they were taking. She knew she didn't deserve it. She just didn't know what else to do…

_Oh… B…_

_--------------------------------_


	9. Separated

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

--

My French accent is atrocious, but my French is even worse. Try to enjoy.

----------------

Some mercies simply weren't offered, in her life before, or in this one. Therefore, the rain broke long before the low slung black car pulled down the street, the first she'd seen, and rolled to a stop beside her. It looked like a hearse… God, she didn't even know if that was Jacques car. What if someone thought she was a prostitute or something? Or maybe there were actually decent people left in the world, who'd worry to see her standing in the rain like that?

Shivering, unable to warm herself without a heartbeat, she stood well back from the car, warily, as the driver's side opened, and a tall, thin man stepped out, covered in black plastic. He popped open an umbrella, and approached her… He was only a few feet away, and she was seriously considering running, when he tipped his head up, and under the oversized rain cap, she recognized the skeleton she'd seen in her mirror.

"Vou look 'alf frozen, Mizz Lydia!" He greeted her, jaws parted in a bony smile, before he seemed to notice the frightened look on her face. "Oh my, I 'ave startled vou… Pleaze forgive me, vere are my man-nairs?" He held out the umbrella over her head, the features of his bones creased gently, in a way no true skeleton's could. "Pleaze get in, zere is a blanket vou can use, in the passenger's seat, oui?"

He led her to the car, and opened the door for him, giving the impression of a complete gentleman. Inside, she indeed found the blanket, and snuggled up in it unabashedly, despite the fact that she had to be soaking it. Small blessings would be taken where they could…

Jacques got in beside her, in the driver's seat, and removed his floppy rain hat, giving her what had to be his most charming grin. Despite herself, it made Lydia smile in return. Just so good to see a kind face… "Thank you." She whispered, wanting to hide behind the blanket, but figuring he deserved her to at least look at him. "I don't, know how to repay you…"

"Non-zense!" The skeleton scoffed, starting the car again. Instantly a sound of smooth jazz filled the car, which surprised her a little, but he just clicked his teeth, shuffled through the tracks of the CD, and found one he liked, before going on. "I am a gentle-skeleton, Mizz Lydia! Vhat sort of man would I be, not to aide zee lady in distress?" He drew a handkerchief from his pocket, beneath the slicker, and handed it to her, adding, "And from vhat Ging-er 'as told me, vou are most certainly in distress, non?"

"I don't think she knows the half of it." Lydia whispered, not sure how much of the story she'd actually managed to get across to the other girl. Jacques considered her for a moment, then raised one eye-ridge, and turned on the heat for her, before drawing back into the street.

He didn't press her anymore after that, which was good. As tired as she was, she had trouble understanding his thick accent, and felt foolish for wanting to ask him to repeat himself so many times. In addition… She really just wanted to wallow in self-pity for a while, albeit without really dwelling on why she felt so bad. That might just break her.

They drove a long ways, in silence. But, it wasn't a bad silence. He wasn't pressing her for answers, which admittedly she wasn't ready to offer, and she didn't really feel uncomfortable or anything. It kind of reminded her of the way things used to be, with him, before.

Mile after mile passed, as she gazed through the window at the endless streets, looping and drawing them to within inches of tall, crooked buildings, before turning abruptly, and heading off in another way altogether. She still couldn't find her way through the roads of the neitherworld, but then, she'd never had to. She reflected for a moment just how much she'd come to depend on Beetlejuice… How much her world revolved around him. What if he was just, gone one day? What if that day, was now?

She closed her eyes, and listened to what she supposed was a saxophone, crooning its haunting tune. Though the music wasn't sad, it fitted her unhappy mood perfectly. It even soothed her, a little. She reminded herself that Beetlejuice wasn't really mad at her… But what did that mean? Would he come looking for her?

She turned her gaze to the kind skeleton beside her, and suppressed a shiver at the thought of what he might be setting himself up for. "You know," She prompted softly, "If B comes looking for me…" And here she stopped, because she really couldn't bear to think that through any further. "I don't want you getting hurt, just because you're helping me."

Jacques turned his gaze to her, the corner of his jaw lifting in a little half smile. "Zis, Beatle-joose, does not scare zis skeleton!" He boasted, then dropped his voice a little, and added with a wink, "Vell, not much, oui?" Turning his gaze forward again, just in time to prevent colliding with an oncoming truck, he spun the wheel easily, twisting them out of harms way. "To tell zee truth, Mizz Lydia? I do not care for zee danger. Jacques la Lean is not so easily swayed, when he wishes to 'elp a lady in need."

What could she say to that? Lydia just made a small sound of acceptance, and rested her weight against the door. After a while, she started to feel sleepy, and wondered just how far they still had to go. It had been a long, event-filled couple of days, and she was long since on her last legs. Maybe it would be all right, if she took a little nap…

Just as she was thinking this, something bumped into the back of her seat, hard, making her yelp, and sit up stock straight. Jacques grip on the wheel faltered at her surprise, as she was left wondering if Beetlejuice had already come after her, and there were more thumps came from the back, making her spin wildly to see what it was.

But now Jacques was laughing. "Relax, mon petite! It is just, 'ow you say, equipment for the exercising!" For a moment, she heard him wrong, and thought he'd said exorcizing, turning back to him with a wild look. He didn't seem to notice, just going on, saying. "Zee weights I take vith me to vork out with my friends, nes past? I zink I still 'ave an old bike in zere too." He cast a glance at her. "Vou may use it, if vou vish… Once vou are feeling better, of course."

He seemed to just accept that she'd be staying with them indefinitely… Lydia didn't understand this sort of kindness from someone she didn't know, and after a moment, realized that she really didn't have anything to say for it, except, "Thank you," very softly, before she turned back to the window.

Maybe they did have a long way to go. Maybe it would be okay to sleep, just a little…

--------------------------------

She hadn't been gone for five minutes, before it struck him what a complete dumb-ass he was being. Immediately he followed her out the door, still pissed beyond relief, but ready to, grudgingly, invite her back inside. He hoped to find her just outside the door, waiting for just this… But instead, the girl was nowhere in sight. It left him dumbfounded. She'd really just left? Damn, wasn't she supposed to know him better than that?

Cursing himself in as varied and imaginative of ways as he could think of, he lifted into the air, until he was just over the tops of the nearby buildings, and began scanning the streets for her. As minutes passed, and he still didn't find her, his frustration began to give way to something unsettlingly like panic. What the_ fuck_ was he _thinking_? Where the _hell_ was that damn _girl_?

He had no way of knowing of course, that he flew over her twice, her slight frame tucked into the old phone booth, before he began ranging his searching further. No way to know she was _behind_ him, as the rain started, less than an hour later, with him almost five miles away. What he did know was that every minute that passed without him finding her, was that much further she was getting away from him… One more minute she could be getting into some stupid shit, without him there to save her ass.

In the end of course, he convinced himself that it wasn't worth it. She'd come back on her own, right? Besides, she couldn't have come that far… He'd probably missed her. And in fact he did miss her, again, by one block, as the long black hearse took a different street than the poltergeist, the two practically side by side for one split second.

But of course, again, Beetlejuice didn't know that. He was too busy thinking of all the ways the girl could get herself killed again. And trying to ignore the twist of fear that this made surge up in his guts. And trying to pretend that he really didn't give a damn what happened to the goth kid he now couldn't get out of his head.

Soaked to the skin, bitterly cold, and even more angry, he stomped back into his house, dripping water everywhere. Kicking off his boots, he dropped himself into an ancient couch, which groaned in protest under his weight, and propped his chin up in his fist, staring intently at the door. Because she would come back, after all.

Like she'd said, she had nowhere else to go…

--------------------------------

Sleep was warm. It might be the only warmth left to her. The blanket was thick and soft, and by now, she was mostly dry, and very comfortable. So when the hand nudged her shoulder, trying to wake her, she pressed it away without thinking, murmuring under her breath, "Not now, B. I'm sleeping…"

She was vaguely aware of a sigh, and then two surprisingly strong arms lifting her from where she was resting. She opened her eyes, not really alarmed yet, to see the neitherworld sky. That seemed odd… And the arms holding her were strong, but really uncomfortable. Bony. She shifted, turning her face upwards, and frowned at the floppy rain hat obscuring her view.

Her memory returned, little by little, and she let out a soft sound of pain, remembering Beetlejuice's dismissal. Bony sockets appeared from beneath the hat, and a wide skeleton grin greeted her. "Bon waking, Mizz Lydia!" Jacques greeted her, still taking long strides forward, to… Well, wherever he was taking her. "We are 'ome!"

Home? She closed her eyes, the very word making her unbearably cold. She'd thought she knew where home was… But she resolved herself, and with a moment's thought, made an attempt to stand. Jacques made no protest, simply dropping her lightly to her feet, and flashing her that charming grin again. "Vou vere sleeping the sleep, 'ow you say, of the dead!" He noted jocularly.

"Good reason for that now, I suppose." Lydia mumbled, brushing her currently very stringy hair from her face. She was a mess, and knew it. And didn't really even care. "Where are we?"

"As I 'ave said, ve are 'ome!" Jacques explained, gesturing in a welcoming way towards what looked like a large, rather squat building, albeit with odd peaks here and there, as if added as an afterthought. "Ging-er, she vill be waiting, oui?" He put a gentle hand in the small of her back, and guided her forward, until they reached an odd, old style swinging door, with top and bottom opening separately. "Ging-er!" He announced loudly, swinging both open at once, "Ve 'ave returned!"

"Oh, hon!" The ghost in question poked her head around the doorframe, relief written on her features. Currently halfway up to the ceiling, clinging to the plaster. "I been walking the walls, waiting for you to get back!" Her immediate concern, as it turned out, was not for Lydia, but for Jacque. "I swear, if that jerk did anything to you…!"

Only here, a bit grudgingly, but with at least some relief evident on her face as well, Ginger turned to her, and gave her a long, serious once over. "Well, looks to me like you had a hell of a long night, sugar. But at least that fellah of yours hasn't seemed to have done you any harm." She sighed, running a serrated hand over her mouth, then smiled, and shrugged, seemingly giving up any right she might have had to be angry. "Why don't you come with me and wash up, hon? Then I'll find you a nice place to sleep… We been trying to rent out that empty apartment forever, seems like. It ain't much, but it's got a roof and a bed…"

At some point in this gentle rambling, she'd taken Lydia by the hand, and was leading her across what looked like a shared living space. She glanced at Jacques over her shoulder, but the skeleton just waved, looking a bit weary, before turning to their door with something of a frown. She could just imagine what he was worrying about. But if B did come looking for her, it probably wouldn't be for, she didn't know, days?

Lydia sat obediently and quietly on the edge of a clean white tub, complete with clawed feet, not big, but elegant, and let Ginger take a warm cloth to her face. She didn't even protest when, almost in a motherly way, Ginger clucked her tongue at the messy state of her hair, and began, without saying a word, working her way through it with a comb. She didn't even ask why the spider had a comb, even though neither she nor Jacques had hair. She was worn out, and the gentle ministrations felt good.

They didn't talk, but Ginger did hum a little under her breath, a soft little lulling song that Lydia didn't know. She supposed there was a lot of music she didn't know about… She'd always limited herself to what Beetlejuice introduced her to. That pretty much went for everything in the neitherworld, too. She'd always said he was her whole world…Now she was starting to realize that he really had been.

Her eyes hooded, gazing at some imperfection in the tiled floor, she almost didn't hear Ginger, as she noted suddenly, "Hon, you ain't warming up yet? Ain't you breathers supposed to be a hell of a lot warmer than this?" The word, 'breather,' cut through Lydia like a knife, but she just smiled.

Ginger though, wasn't done, climbing around her, and stopping only when she could meet the goth girl's eyes face to face. The frown lingered on her lips for upwards of a minute, before suddenly, her face grew horribly pale. "Oh, sugar…" She whispered, lifting a delicate limb to brush softly against Lydia's cheek. "Don't tell me… He didn't… Not to you!"

All she could manage was a soft, pained sound, and turning her eyes back away. Ginger though, simply followed her line of sight doggedly, looking angrier than she would have thought someone, other than the obvious, could look for her. "Well then, damn him!" Ginger snapped, the words surprising Lydia into further silence. "Don't he know the whole point of this…?" She shook her head, now simply mute with fury, and glared off at nothing at all.

She felt, like she should defend him. But any words she could think of, sounded horribly pathetic, when she tried to make them speech. "It's not like I tried to stop him." She said at last, feeling defeat in the words. "Ging… It's always been going that way."

"And that's all there is to it, is that it, hon?" The spider turned her frown on the girl, eyes flashing with what, she didn't know. "Look, you only get one life Lydia, and that big jerk took yours from you, without no never mind! And him supposed to be caring about you…"

"He doesn't remember that." Lydia pointed out softly, making the other girl fall silent, and just shake her head in distress. "It doesn't matter. It's done. There's no going back." The truth was, that didn't even bother her. Not really. Being dead didn't feel any different than being alive had. But it certainly hadn't made things any better, just worse.

"Hon…" Ginger whispered at last, putting one gentle hand over hers. "This is gonna be the hardest part of your afterlife. If he ain't gonna be here for it, and it being him that did it in the first place, then you gotta realize he ain't the fellah for you, right?"

Lydia sighed, deciding the best thing to do, was not to answer this either way. Yes, she was miserable. Cut off from her past forever, her future uncertain… But damn if she didn't still love him. Damn if she didn't want him to just show up, right then, and take her back… _home_.

_You've fought all my battles for me, B. How can you not be here for this one?_ Maybe things would make more sense in the morning. Maybe he'd come looking for her, and everything would be all right again. Or maybe… Maybe it was just the whole long ordeal talking, but maybe it was just time for her to do now, what she'd never had the strength to do when she was still alive.

Maybe it was time for her to start fighting her battles herself.

--------------------------------

He'd been sitting in the same spot for the last thirteen hours or so… To tell the truth, he really didn't know how it had been himself. He'd stopped looking at the clock a long time ago. His eyes lidded, his heart… What the hell, his _heart_? Fine, his guts then, twisted all up in weird, annoying emotions. Like, pain.

Grunting, he finally came to the conclusion that the broad just wasn't coming back. Fine whatever. But had he really scared her that bad? Damn chick wasn't _supposed_ to be scared of him… That was one of the things he liked about her. Probably one of the things he'd always liked about her, not that he could remember. It just, seemed to fit. The kid had _spirit_… So why the hell not just stand up to him? Why run off like some broken doll, or something?

Pushing himself to his feet, Beetlejuice took a long look around his home, and reflected that it did look better, when someone put in an effort to clean it. Pissed off at himself, pissed off at the girl, Beetlejuice stalked from the living room, determined to lie down, figuring if she hadn't come back by now, she probably wasn't going to.

_Damn her_, _she_… He stopped, frozen in the doorway, as he saw again the way she'd rearranged the bedroom. But she hadn't actually messed with any of his stuff. Just put her stuff around it. A little more cluttered than he liked… But then again, it was kind of impressive what that girl could manage, when she got it into her head to do something. She'd moved that big ass bed all the way across the-

How the hell had she done that? He considered the dresser, the wardrobe, and yes again, the bed, and frowned, wondering if the girl was going to end up having powers. Not like his of course… No one had powers like his. But some power, at any rate.

He tried to turn his attention away from all of it, his only intention to lie down and get some sleep, but then his eye fell on that damn red thing she was always wearing, hung there from the post of her bed. Grudgingly, he walked over to it, taking it between his thumb and forefinger. It was time worn, faded, and stitched up from countless tiny tears. Why was it so important to her? Beetlejuice, without thinking, brought it to his nose. His eyes closed, as he breathed in her scent. It was like…

It was like the girl wasn't even there, and she still had some kind of power over him. But he didn't react with anger this time, just tugging the poncho from its resting place lightly, and gathering the soft silk of it up in his hand. It crinkled, like the way it had gathered against her under his touch… He brought it to his face again, and this time, inhaled more deeply.

Pumpkins, cloves… Something feral. Something uniquely _her_. It made his hea- His guts twist, again. Slowly he moved to his own coffin bed, and lay down, the soft material still clutched in his hand. His head fell back, on his pillow, and he was hit by a wall of dust, making him sneeze. _Not that it'd be that bad, having someone clean up this place from time to time…_ This thought too, he pushed away.

He held the sheer material over his head, gazing at the meager light through its weaving, then sighed, and rolled over, pulling it down across him. Damn her for having this power over him. How the hell had that happened? He didn't have any of their past to draw on, or anything… Maybe something else? Something that wasn't just memories, or…

_I loved her. That's the bottom line, right?_ He closed his eyes, frowning, but unable to escape the way it made him feel a little nauseas, admitting this. Even to himself. _So what, is that supposed to be some big shit, bigger than memory, or…_ He couldn't think of that. God, he didn't want to admit he was losing all control over this situation. Especially not when any idea of getting his memories back now was pretty much shot, whether he wanted them or not.

It had to be the king of the neitherworld. The one guy, who even with all his power, the poltergeist just couldn't fucking touch. Maybe it should have been staring him in the face, ever since he'd found out he was the one to kill that brat of a prince… Who'd want revenge more than someone who had every reason to hate him, and nothing to risk?

He lay there, trying to sleep, for the better part of an hour. It should have been easy. He was exhausted, and his thoughts had never kept him awake before. But he _couldn't_ fucking _sleep_. His mind kept returning to her. It probably didn't help that he was clutching her clothing to his chest like some kind of security blanket, drowning himself in her smell.

When he gave up on sleep, it wasn't with anger. Sure, he was mad at her, more mad at himself, but this really had nothing to do with either one. He got to his feet grimly, starting to toss her poncho aside, then reconsidered, and tucked it into his belt. _Go ahead, let the broad know I've been thinking about her… She can't control me any more than she already does, at this point._ Though secretly, he wondered if that was really true. If he was this far lost, after all…

So he'd go find her. Wasn't like he was going to apologize or anything, just tell her to come back. She'd listen, right? The question was, where the hell was she? For the first time, it struck him as incredibly unfair that she could find him whenever the hell she wanted, but he had no way to track her down himself.

Yeah, that was balanced.

"'Kay babes, you want me to come find you, I'll do it." He muttered under his breath, already turning his mind forward to where to look. "But you sure as hell better appreciate it!" Now he just had to think… Did she know anyone else in the neitherworld? She'd been coming here for years, yeah… But he didn't strike himself, even in memories he'd lost, to be the kind of guy to share.

Wait. She'd said that, hadn't she? He thought back for a minute, trying to remember when the girl had said that… When the spider chick had shown up, right? She said he didn't like the share, but it didn't surprise her, him finding a way to look out for her when he wasn't around.

So hell, the spider, right? That was where she'd go… Fury welled up in him, at the thought of some little knee-high spook thinking she had any right to what was clearly _his_. Getting between him and Lydia… Screw if they were having a fight, it was none of her damn business! If the girl hadn't had her to run off to, she'd have come back by now!

Finally with someone to direct his anger onto, this just left finding the damn ghost, and… Hell, she had that skeleton guy living with her, didn't she? Some asshole, making time with _his _babes? Oh… Oh, no. That wasn't acceptable at all.

Beetlejuice threw his coat on, scowled in the direction of the mirror he'd once been able to find her with so easily, and cursed the pair that had drawn his girl from him. He'd make them pay for it, that was for damn sure… All he had to do was find them.

And they would sure as hell be easier to corner than that damn king…

--------------------------------


	10. Decisions

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

Okay, hope this pieces together well...

----------------

When she woke, again, there was a moment where she didn't remember what had happened. Not that fact that she was dead, mind, or even in the neitherworld… That seemed as natural as breathing still felt. But she did turn to look for Beetlejuice, expecting to see him, maybe watching her sleep, like before. Only he wasn't there. In fact, she didn't know where _she_ was.

It all returned shortly after that of course, and as heart wrenching as the renewed realization was, it was just as quickly pushed to the back of her mind as her stomach twisted within her, hard, audibly, reminding her that she hadn't had anything to eat since she'd died. She'd deal with that first. Then thoughts of Beetlejuice.

The room she was in was bare, save the small coffin bed. It was possibly meant for someone not quite her size, because she'd had to keep her knees curled through the length of the night, and the sides of it nearly cupped her body. But it was soft, dry, and better than she served. If she was a little stiff, so what? It was probably from all the cleaning she'd done.

Still she stretched, carefully, as she stood, and cast another glance around her, taking in her surroundings, before moving to the door. She was a little hesitant about opening it, this wasn't her house after all, no matter how welcome those two had tried to make her feel. But at another groan from her middle, she grimaced, and swung the door open, readying herself to face whatever was on the other side.

"'Allo!" Jacques greeted her, pausing in the middle of spooning some thick brown stuff into bowls. His jawbones curved, parted slightly, in that skeleton way he had, his mustache, which seemed out of place, perfectly groomed and twisted, in the way of villains in old movies. She hadn't really even noticed it, before. On him it seemed, charming. "Bon waking, Mizz Lydia!"

He was dressed in vertical blue stripes, alternating light and dark up and down the length of his cotton pajama pants. He was without a top, which revealed every rib and vertebrae, with a towel, this also blue, thrown about his bony bare shoulders. It was as odd a sight as anything, and all Lydia could think was that it didn't seem odd at all. "Good morning, Jacques." She greeted him, brushing the hair from her eyes. "Where's Ginger?"

"Right here, sugar!" Two hairy appendages appeared over the top of the table, drawing her cheerful face up to eye level with the wood surface, as she scurried to take her place on a much taller chair that the others placed there. "You're right in time for breakfast… Jacques here makes the best gruel in the neitherworld!"

Gruel? But even something that normally would make her hesitate, made her stomach complain loudly, much to her abashment, and the amusement of her hosts. "Ah, it zeems Mizz Lydia is eager to try my cooking!" Jacques noted in that pleasant, humorous way, she was already learning he had. "Vell, far be it from me, to disappoint, non?" He dropped one of the bowls of thick brown ooze before her, and Lydia tried not to wince as it jiggled, apparently of its own volition, and then continued to do so.

Instead, she lifted her spoon obediently, and stuck it firmly in the sticky stuff, pulling a bite to her mouth… It surprised her, more than anything because it tasted _good_. Like cinnamon and nutmeg, a hint of cream, and some earthy grain that wasn't nearly as heavy in her stomach as she expected.

She attacked the dish after this, finally aware of just how starving she was, and before she knew it, the bowl was scraped clean. Sighing slowly, her appetite finally satisfied, she looked up, to find the two staring at her with something like shock. Both their bowls were nearly untouched. Lydia blushed, but all she could do was lick her lips, attempt a smile, and note, "Jacques, that was really good. Thank you."

"When was the last time you ate, hon?" Ginger pressed suddenly, looking like she was ready to get angry again. "Ain't that fellah of yours even fed you since…?" And here she stopped, looking uncomfortable, like this was just the sort of thing one didn't discuss in polite company.

"Um, no. He was busy." More excuses. Even to her, they were starting to sound pathetic. "Trying to find out what happened to his memories… You know."

"No, hon." Ginger denied grimly, crossing her first set of arms across the table. "I don't know." A grim, uneasy silence fell between them after that, until the spider finally sighed, and with a shake of her head, turned back to her own meal, not saying another word.

It was Jacques who filled the thick silence, noting with a little chide to his roommate, "Ve are not zee ones to judge, Ging-er! Knowing so lee-tle of vhat 'as 'appened? Though I," And he crossed his fist against his chest with a proud note, lifting his head a little, "I vould not let zee past get in the vay of treating my lady correctly, in zee moment, n'est-ce pas? Per'aps zis, Beatle-joose, needs some time to spend alone, and think on what is important, non?"

That was probably the last thing he needed, Lydia thought with a little frown, staring uselessly at her empty bowl. Before she could say another word though, or even think of another word to say, the skeleton was filling her bowl with another large scoop of the nasty-looking, but wonderful tasting, brown stuff. "Eat, Miss Lydia! Vou must get vour strength back! This dying, eet ees not as easy as the comedians would claim it to be!"

This made Lydia laugh, unexpectedly, trying to cover it behind her hands. _Dying is easy, comedy's hard…_ Jacques looked pleased to see her in good humor, and retook his seat across from her, digging into his own meal. It baffled her briefly, to wonder where the food went, once it was in his mouth… But staring would probably be rude, so she focused on her own meal instead.

After this, they ate in peace, and she foolishly thought that that was the end of the discussion. Of course this little notion was cured, as Jacques started gathering up the empty bowls, the meal done, and Ginger turned her attention right back to the newly dead goth girl. "So what are you gonna _do_, hon?" She pressed pointedly.

This stumped Lydia. Well, she knew what she ought to do, but… "Non-zense, Ging-er!" Jacques denied firmly, shooting her what could only be called a scolding look, regardless of his lack of eyes. "Eet eez far too zoon to be asking such questions… Zee lady must take 'er time, weigh her options… Zis Eez a very big decision!"

Take her time? Weigh her options? That was the last thing she should do… "I need to find B," She said softly, pretending for now, that the unspoken offer to stay, hadn't been offered at all, "Before he finds me… here, with you."

At this of course, no one could argue, and kindly, they made no attempt to. Of course the problem was, she didn't know where to find him… But she should still be able to call him, right? Just, not here. Maybe at the Freaky Eye-Scream Shop. That seemed kind of like neutral ground. As long as he wasn't still mad, anyway.

"I'll go to the Freaky Eye-Scream Shop, later." She decided at last, softly. "Maybe the Shocking Maul. Keep you two well out of the way, when I meet him." Jacques started to clear his throat, how she didn't know, but she gave him an even look, and he fell silent again. "You know I'm right." She murmured, still torn over the danger she was causing them. "If B shows up, and you two are anywhere around, he'll… I don't know. But I don't want you to get hurt."

"You really, think you ought to be going back to him, sugar?" Ginger ventured slowly, as if the suggestion might not be welcome. "I mean, look at all you been through so far for that guy… Don't do it just on our account. I mean, we may not look like much, but," And she included Jacques in her statement with a wave of her arm, making him stand up straighter, "We can take care of ourselves." A small pause. "It's you I'm worried about."

_And it's you, I'm worried about_. Lydia didn't say it aloud though. She just looked down at her ring. The ring she'd promised never to take off… And she'd kept that promise. And she always would. "No, I've made up my mind…" She began firmly, only to be cut off by Ginger, an equally no nonsense tone to her voice.

"You give yourself one day to think about it, hon." The spider instructed, drawing herself up to her fullest height. In her current position, it left her eye to eye with the girl. "And one night to sleep on it! If you still wanna run back to the fellah tomorrow, then won't either one of us stand in your way… But you just make sure that's what _Lydia_ wants to do, you hear me?"

She could argue it, knew she probably should, even. But Beetlejuice, the way he'd been back there, scared her. She wasn't eager to go rushing back to him, when he might not be over whatever had made him so upset yet. "All right." She agreed quietly, feeling a twinge of guilt somewhere in her middle. "I'll wait." But not to think about it. No, she'd already made her decision…

She'd just wait one more day to put it into action. That was all…

--------------------------------

The day passed with intolerable slowness. Either Jacques or Ginger was with her all the time, as if to make sure she didn't renege on her promise, and run off to find Beetlejuice the moment their backs were turned. If they worked, which they probably did, they must have taken the day off, just to watch over her. It made her feel kind of like a guilty burden… Not from anything they said, but just because it felt like they were putting their afterlives on hold for her.

However, as slowly as the day passed, it did finally pass, night falling across the horizon as she gazed out through the small glass window in the kitchen. Ginger was cooking this time, she wondered if they often split it up this way, and like what Jacques had served earlier, it didn't look remotely like the food she was used to. Then again, it didn't really look like anything Beetlejuice would turn a fork to either…

She'd been pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room for the better part of an hour, driving herself crazy, if not her hosts, who politely demurred from saying anything about this display of rudeness. "Come, mon cherie," Jacques interrupted, just as she made another pass through the living room. "Ve vill play zee card game. Or perhaps, vith zee wooden blocks… Jenga?"

Lydia shot him as patient a look as she could, frustrated beyond all belief. She couldn't stand the waiting, it was gnawing on her nerves like something alive, and her hands had little semi-circles in the palms from the way she'd kept them clenched so long into fists.

But she nodded, slowly, well aware he was only being nice, and sat down in the chair opposite him. "So, what, poker?" Beetlejuice had of course, taught her to play poker… Within about a week of meeting him, actually. She was pretty good.

"Po-kair?" Jacques lifted one eye ridge, then chuckled, squaring his shoulders slowly. "I vill 'ave you know, I 'ave not lost at zat game in over fifty years, Mizz Lydia… But if eet eez vhat you wish to play… 'ow can I say non?"

They played their first game with little consequence, Jacques shuffling the cards like a pro, though without the flair the poltergeist always had. Of course, he used that flair to distract people from the fact that he was cheating… Suspecting Jacques wouldn't cheat, she kept her own dirty tricks in check, though when it had come to playing with Beetlejuice, it had always been no holds barred. And true to his word, the skeleton was good, but…

"Royal flush, bone boy." She grinned, slipping into one of her more irreverent attitudes, a little more comfortable now that she'd kicked his butt at cards.

Jacques stared, both sockets wide, and then chuckled, and shook his head in amusement. "Eet seems I cannot say I am unbeaten anymore!" He noted good naturedly, gathering up the cards for another shuffle. "I vould say vou are cheating, but no, surely not you, Mizz Lydia…! I am relieved ve are not putting any money on our games, or I vould be every skeleton's vorst nightmare… Broke!"

She couldn't help but laugh at the silly pun, in a good mood, having fun, and for just a moment, not worrying about what would happen next. "Well, I'd lay money on it, if I had any." She noted, snatching the cards from him with a smirk, and going into one of the fancier shuffling routines that Beetlejuice had taught her.

The skeleton blinked, which should have been impossible, tried to follow her hands for a moment, and then groaned, resting his skull in his long hands. "Sacre bleu… Vhat 'ave I gotten myself in for?" But he was, she noticed, smiling.

"Dinner'll be ready in two shakes!" Ginger called from the kitchen, peeking in to see how they were doing. "Ooh, what's that you're playing, hon?"

Not sure which of them she was addressing, Lydia let Jacques answer. "Ve are playing Po-kair." He noted dryly, waving his hand in something like defeat. "And Mizz Lydia, she is cleaning my clock, it seems." He shrugged, and accepted his hand as she dealt. "What can I say, se la vie!"

Lydia was picking through her cards, which to her chagrin were not as good as the ones Jacques had dealt her, when there was a sharp, short knock on the door, making both of them lift their heads in surprise. Lydia though, only paid attention for a moment, before turning back to her hand, inwardly worried how to react to whatever guest might be arriving.

It was only as Jacques had already gotten up to answer it that a sudden, paralyzing fear gripped her. She lifted her head, the words of warning choking in her throat as Jacques greeted the person on the other side with an, "'Allo, 'ow may I 'elp vou…?"

And all hell broke loose. Jacques, as she stared in horror, flew across the room in a burst of yellow orange light, falling in as many pieces as a skeleton could fall into, along the far wall, scattered. Beetlejuice strode in the door like the place was his own, turned his eyes once around the room, even as Lydia was standing, her cards falling from limp hands, and Ginger peeked her head in, letting out a squeal of fear when she saw who it was.

Then, deliberately, Beetlejuice turned back to the skeleton, who still seemed to be alive, just in pieces, and gave a nasty grin, advancing on him in a purposeful way. "B!" Said poltergeist paused at her cry, casting a brief glance back to her, with a scowl. "Leave him alone! He didn't do anything!"

His eyes narrowed, as he took in the fact that she was standing up to him, and he didn't even notice as Ginger scurried across the floor, doing her best to hastily pick up her friend's pieces. "You're sitting here, making time with some other guy," Beetlejuice growled, "And you expect me to just let him walk away, without grinding him into dust? You must be thinking of some other ghost, babes…"

He turned back, to see them both standing before him now, and the look of fury on his face sparked further. He twitched his fingers, and an eerie flickering light flew up around his hand, caressing the long digits like the licking of a flame. "Two birds, one stone." He noted bluntly, about to engulf them both in his powerful light, until nothing remained…

Only to find himself staring at Lydia, who had run between her new friends, and her best friend, arms stretched wide, eyes wild, defying him to use that power on her, to get to them. "You wanna hurt them, B," She whispered, her voice shaky, her mouth dry, but her eyes flashing with unwavering determination, "You go through me."

Beetlejuice just stood there, dumbfounded, unable to accept that she was defying him this openly. Pretty much daring him to use his powers against her. His lips peeled back slowly in fury. "You think I won't, babes?" He hissed, his fingers closing into a fist, the 'flames' around them growing brighter. "You willing to bet your afterlife on it?"

"If I have to." Her voice had dropped nearly to a whisper, and in the hypnotic light of his unleashed energy, tears gleamed wetly in the goth girl's eyes. "You know it's the only damn thing I can do… You're too strong for me to do anything else. But if they're gonna die here, I'm not gonna let you get anything out of this _but_ death."

Beetlejuice's features, furious through all of this, slowly grew thoughtful, calculating. "You ain't afraid to die again, doll?" He whispered, taking a decided step towards her, only to find her unwilling to yield even this much in return. "There ain't no afterlife waiting for you after this one…"

"And neither are you." She whispered. The words, for the first time, made him visibly falter. "If I'm willing to risk that, what weight does my own soul hold to me?"

For a long, long time, this standoff continued. Neither one's gaze so much as flicked from the other's. The light of his energy, rather than dampening, was continuing to build, until it burned white hot in the former gloom of the little house. Colors of green and purple twisted through it. The look on his face was stone, but his eyes were furious, as he weighed the resolve of the girl before him, and how much he was willing to lose.

"Damn it, babes…" He whispered at last, his expression growing slowly more open, more human, but no less angry. Now though, something like hurt as well. "What were you thinking… You really thought I was gonna throw your ass out? I was pissed, you gotta expect that sometimes!"

"I was scared." Lydia said softly, making him shift, in what seemed to be discomfort, and finally turn his gaze aside, just a little. So he was still looking at her, but just not straight on. "I was gonna call you," She went on, more softly, "Tomorrow. After you maybe weren't so angry anymore. I wasn't gonna stay away."

"Yeah?" He sounded more like he was sulking now, than really angry. "Why the hell should I believe that?" He looked rather like someone who'd been asked to share a favorite treat, with someone they didn't even know. "You just take off…"

"You made me leave!" Lydia was as surprised as anyone when this came out near a shout, and then surprised herself again, as she was the one to advance on him this time, her hands trembling, her eyes shining, but her voice stronger than she'd ever managed before. "I was _afraid_ of you! I'm tired of being _afraid_ of you, B! You're supposed to be my forever, and you don't even know me!"

The simple fact that she was yelling at him, openly yelling at him, shocked him into just staring, silent, dumbfounded, at the volatile girl before him. He didn't even pay attention to the two other ghosts standing there, just as shocked, looking like they wanted to intervene, but held back by fear of the poltergeist she was so openly challenging.

"Do you even want your memories back?" As quickly as her voice had risen to a shout, now it dropped to a whisper, and she advanced on him again, this time making even the ghost with the most stumble back. "You keep saying I make you soft, or…" She gestured around them, feebly. "This! Telling me… Trying to scare me!" A pause, and then, no louder than a breath, "Are you ever going to love me again, B? Because not knowing, is way worse than being dead. I don't, know if I can stand it."

It wasn't really clear if he had an answer. In fact, after a lengthy pause of struggling for the right words, all he could manage was, "Babes… What are you saying?"

Lydia took a long, slow breath in, closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, looked nothing less than heartbroken. "I love you, B." She murmured, all she'd ever felt for him, built up in those words. "I always will. I'd follow you anywhere, do anything to make you happy… But is that really what you want anymore? Because if it isn't…" Her voice caught, and she forced a smile, before pressing on. "If it isn't, then maybe I shouldn't try to force you."

"Until you're sure, B… Maybe you should go home. Without me."

--------------------------------

He wasn't thinking straight. He couldn't stop pacing. His heart felt like he strode on it with every step, his mind spinning, his thoughts full of cotton and sand. It had been too long since he'd slept. There was just too much on his mind. And through it all, he just couldn't believe that she'd asked him to leave him there… And that he'd done it.

_I don't remember the last time I ate. The last time I slept. The last time I thought of anything that wasn't her!_ He'd cut his palms raw with his nails, and with every moment that passed, it felt more and more like she was being the unreasonable one. Hadn't he been the one that had to deal with some chick he had no memory of, expecting to be crazy over her? _I am crazy over her. I'm completely fucking crazy over her…_

Beetlejuice shifted the weight of his shoulders, straightening his back. Damn it. Damn it! This chick was screwing with him! He couldn't think of anything else when they were apart, and she went and asked him to leave her! She was being completely unreasonable! Messing with his head! He ought to go back there right now…

She should be here, with him. They should be in bed, sleeping maybe, or… It was _fucking_ supposed to be _different_ than this!

He'd go back there, that's what he'd do. Go straight to her room, and… What? He didn't know. His head was in too much of a fog. God, he was so pissed, he just wanted to hurt her! He kept telling himself that, over and over, he just wanted to hurt her… And any other thoughts, contradicting this, he forced away.

Yeah, that was it, he'd go find her. This wasn't finished yet!

With a twist of his power, and a moment's concentration, he was standing outside the squat, ugly little house again. He cracked his knuckles, moving around it slowly, looking for a window. Trying to see which room was hers. It'd be easy. She'd be sleeping. He'd… No, he still didn't know what he'd do.

Finding her was easier than he'd expected, hers was the window thrown wide open, as if inviting intrusion. He considered her, laying there, sleeping. So fucking beautiful she probably didn't even know it. It made him want to taste her, kiss her, run his fingers over her sleeping… _What the hell am I thinking?_

Shaking his head, he ghosted through the wall, his hands shoved in his pockets, his head hunched in sort of a hunted way, and considered her again. God, he could smell her from there. His body betrayed him, remembering everything he'd felt the last time she was in his arms. The fantasies he hadn't gotten a chance to play out. It started to feel like maybe, he should just play them out now. Just fucking wake her up, and…

He moved closer to her coffin, undeniable anger burning in him as he watched her sleep. Rape wasn't his game, it never had been. Just the thought made him sick. But he'd never wanted anyone as much as he wanted that girl, lying so temptingly before him, and as much as he wanted her, he wanted to _hurt_ her as well. His hands closed on the side of the pitiful box, all that was separating her from him…

And then he tensed as she opened her eyes, and saw him there, ready to do even he didn't know what to her. Her eyes, warm as pools of soft candy, as her lips curled in a smile on seeing him, and her arms reached without hesitation to draw him nearer. He was almost shaking, his body had gone so stiff, utterly at a loss for how to react to a greeting like this.

"Don't go, B." She whispered, her voice still dreamy, as if she hadn't really even convinced herself he was really there. "I'll do anything you want… Just stay with me, please…"

A shudder traced through him, and he found himself reacting to her softly spoken plea, climbing into the coffin with her, only to find that there simply wasn't enough room. Her fingertips danced along his throat, sliding down to seek the buttons that separated skin from skin, as with a wrench of his strength, he laid the walls of her coffin outwards, leaving the two of them on a thin mattress on the floor.

Lydia trembled as she felt his massive power sweep over her, her lips parting in a soft sound of surprise and fright, but offering no protest as his fingers began snatching greedily at her own clothes, tearing them away, leaving her quickly bare and vulnerable before him. A sigh fell from her, as his hands tried to devour every inch of her at once, her eyes still heavily lidded, still half in that place where sleep makes everything safe, where recent memory falls away, and takes its pains with it.

"B…" She breathed, her fingers scorching his skin wherever they passed, her gaze filled with emotions he had no way to understand as she willingly parted her thighs for him, clutching his hand to the soft roundness of her breasts. "I've waited so long for you…"

It wasn't what he'd expected, but god if he wasn't responding to it. His mouth was dry, his mind spinning, the taste of her pressed against his lips again and again. Without an ounce of heat, she burned him to his core, and he longed to taste every inch of her, all ideas of revenge or pain forgotten. She was soft and willing in his arms, her eyes filled with light, soft sounds of desire falling from perfect pink lips…

Spending not half as much time on foreplay as even he desired, he slipped into her with another little shudder, making her first moan aloud, then whimper in pain as he pressed more deeply. She went suddenly still beneath him, biting her lip, features uncertain, as if only now realizing that she really wasn't dreaming. She was frightened, and begging him with her eyes for reassurance, to let her know everything was okay.

Without even thinking, he responded to that look with caresses of his lips, of his fingers, until she once more went soft beneath him, making little sounds of joy. Until she grasped at him, and pulled _him_ deeper. Her hair tossed over her face as he brushed it away with his mouth, tasting her excitement in the dampness of her skin, the trembling of her flesh beneath his questing thrusts.

She was so _tight _around him… Not just from being her first time, but from the swelling of her soft parts against him, driven by the excitement of his light, constant caresses. She felt so good that he almost swallowed his tongue, trying not to cry out from it. And from time to time, she would give a sensual little shimmy beneath him, followed by a moan that struck him to his core.

He forgot all his intentions of hurting her, his soul gripped by the tight grasping of her hands through his hair, around his back, touching him everywhere at once. Such tiny, delicate hands, that clutched him completely in their power, making him shift without thinking, at the slightest pressure, slow or quicken his movements, at their silent commands. And yet all without a thought to her own pleasure.

In fact, he didn't even know if she came, only that he did, with a suddenness that rocked his entire body, and left him feeling briefly broken, as he stared with wide eyes at nothing at all. He was shaking, and he didn't know why. No woman had ever done this to him. No tricks gained from centuries of experience had ever left him so breathless. And he didn't even need to breathe.

Still supple with sensuality beneath him, her gaze was dark with pleasure as she devoured him with her eyes, still seeking his warmthless, grimy skin with her lips. Tiny kisses, hot as brands against him. And when he drew out of her, she still didn't release him, pulling his unprotesting form down beside her, and drawing his arms gently around her bare flesh, until he was cupping her small back against the front of him, with amazingly, no desire to draw away.

She was still breathing hard, more from memory than actual need, the crown of her head resting temptingly just below his face, so that he had to turn it down only a little to smell her sweat and sweetness. Again, with no reason he could understand this time, a moan fell from his lips.

But already, her strength spent, secure in his arms in a way he couldn't understand, her eyes were growing heavy again, and he could almost see tangibly as she began to drift back into the safe place of sleep. As if there were nothing at all strange, about lying in the murdering poltergeist's embrace. The ghost who had _killed_ her, only days before.

And then, just as she began to drift off fully to sleep, she whispered the words that struck him so hard, that it felt like a physical blow to his chest. "I love you, B…" Just a murmur, so softly spoken that she may not even have meant to admit it, and more honest than anything he'd ever heard. And all he could do was lay there, reeling, his arms curled possessively around this creature who claimed to love him. And for the life of him, for reasons his mind simply couldn't understand, he didn't want to let go.

Had he really come here, intending to hurt her? Instead he watched her sleep, warring emotions in his breast, confused and helpless, and liking neither of these feelings at all… And still not wanting to surrender either one.

It might have been hours later, before he summoned the strength of mind to actually draw away from her, though he had to force himself to close his eyes, in order to let go. But then, standing, common sense slowly began to return. This girl owned a piece of his soul, that couldn't be denied anymore, even if he wasn't sure himself how it had happened.

Damn it, had she really been the most important thing in his afterlife? Had someone really been stupid enough to take away what was _his_? His fingers curled into fists, and a murderous glint burned in the sunken pits of his eyes. _His_ memories. Of something precious to _him. _Nothing had ever been precious to him before… And damned if he was going to let someone get away with stealing the one thing that was, whether he could remember it or not.

That was it, he was going to get his memories back, if he had to kill everything between him and them in the process. He couldn't stand it anymore, not knowing, not understanding these feelings that burned through him. He was going to get his memories back, and remember why that slip of a girl had such an unshakeable grasp on him…

Either that, or he was going to destroy them, and shatter her power over him forever…

--------------------------------


	11. Reactions

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

So much for nano writing month, or whatever it is... Looks like I didn't make the deadline. Oh well.

---------------

The first thing that Lydia noticed, on waking, was that there was a lot more room to stretch this morning. This was followed, as she opened her eyes blearily, and gave her surroundings a cursory once over, by this realization; sometime during the course of the night, someone had broken her bed.

And then of course, she remembered, and turned a rather unusual shade of pale pink. She didn't get up right away. Instead she lay there, staring at the place where she'd seen him, and wondered if, evidence non-withstanding, the whole thing might have been a dream. Because in an after the fact kind of way, it really did feel like, well, just a fantastically good sex dream. She'd certainly had them about Beetlejuice before… Especially since the incident in the bathroom.

Upon realizing that she was lying there naked though, her clothes torn to shreds and tossed randomly about the room, the evidence became overwhelming. Okay then. It wasn't a dream. Now what?

Now her blush returned, and she belatedly covered herself with her blanket, which on closer inspection, smelled of that familiar Beetlejuice smell. She wondered when he'd left… He'd waited until she fell asleep. Hell though, she'd pretty much fallen out right away, so that might not be saying much. Did he, leave anything? Some sign that he'd come back?

Standing, a little unsteadily at first, she kept the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and took another look around the room, to see if he'd left something, anything. Her heart as if turned out, never had a chance to sink in doubt, because there, not five feet from her window, was a small pile of clothes. Topped, rather elegantly, with her red poncho.

Her heart, unbeating though it might be, faltered, then swelled with sudden, savage joy, as she ran across to grasp the silken thing in both hands, letting her blanket fall away. As she lifted it, a gleam of metal shone in the meager light, followed by a soft, musical, _'__clink_.'

Looking instinctively to see what it was, Lydia swore she felt a ghostly hand caress the back of her neck, prickling her skin with goosebumps and cool breath. Tears sprung to her eyes as she bent down to retrieve her locket, twisting it between her fingers to see their picture etched on the back, the words '_Beetle's Babes_,' inscribed comfortingly below. The chain was still broken, but it didn't matter. She knew now. She knew he was coming back. One way or another.

She sank to her knees, the red silk clutched in one hand, the necklace clutched in the other, and let her tears fall in relief, without a sound. Some she wiped on her poncho, which made her laugh in turn. It was only some time later that she gathered enough of herself to actually dress… Grinning like an idiot the whole time, her thoughts torn between the pleasure of the night before, and the hope she felt now.

Throwing the door open, she made both Jacques and Ginger jump, noticeably. She immediately felt bad for what they'd been through, neither one looked like they'd slept much the night before, but their smiles, as they greeted her, seemed genuine.

It was Ginger who noticed what she was wearing of course, guys rarely noticed that kind of thing, but all she did was press her lips together, and look worried. No berating, no warning, just a slight, uncomfortable look, that said she knew that Beetlejuice had come back. In her house. Probably while she'd been trying, and failing, to sleep.

"Bon waking!" Jacques greeted her, just a little less cheerily than the previous morning. "Zere eez our lee-tle 'ero! Standing up to ze devil 'imself, and not showing any worse zee wear for it!" His summation of the night before made her shift uncomfortably, and want, instinctively, to defend Beetlejuice… But there really was no way to do that, was there?

"'M not a hero." She murmured, taking her place at the table, and accepting her bowl of the poorly named 'gruel.' "Didn't really think he'd hurt me." But was that true? Maybe she should settle for a half truth… "Never has before, anyway." There, that worked.

"Zee lady who tamez zee ti-gar…" He sighed, as if just how exactly this had happened, made no sense to him at all. "I suppose eet happens to zee best of us… Vhy not zee worst as vell?"

_The lady and the tiger_… Lydia grimaced, she'd had to read that story in her freshman year, and the unfinishedness of it had haunted her ever since. She hated that story, not just because there was no way to know how it ended, but because there was no way for it to end well. Which tragedy was a small point… Even if it did eat at her.

If it were Beetlejuice though, he'd have picked the tiger, killed it with his bare hands, and then come for her. And no friggin royal, noble, whatever, would stop him. The thought made her smile.

"You're in a good mood this morning, sugar." Ginger noted slowly, pointedly placing all her attention on her bowl of food. "Should I take it that everything's hunky dory, then?" And if there was just a trace of sarcasm to it, it was probably best overlooked.

Lydia reflected that any chance she'd had of being real friends with these two, was pretty much shot the moment Beetlejuice broke one into pieces, and tried to erase both from the face of the neitherworld. Never mind that she'd risked herself by getting in the way… Something had been broken, and broken beyond repair. Each put on a friendly face, made polite conversation, but… It wasn't the same.

It seemed a little odd to her, to regret that. To regret anything, when it seemed like everything that meant anything to her, was once more falling into reach. Beetlejuice had always been enough before… She'd made that one foolish attempt for more, but it wasn't what she'd really wanted. Now it seemed, sad somehow, to have the rest of eternity, and only one soul to share it with.

_But if it must be just one, it's him. No question._ Truthfully, even if it was a choice between a whole gaggle of close friends, and just him, the choice was still easy. So she too, pointedly avoided looking at the two that might have been friends, but for… well. No use going over that, was there?

"Can you tell me if the local bus runs to the Freaky Ice Cream Shop?" She prompted out of the blue, deciding to spare the two any more of her presence than necessary. It only managed though, to make them both jump a little, before calming enough to answer.

"Eet eez, not so far." Jacques answered, granting her a tired smile. "I must vork today, at zee gym. Billz to pay, vou know… But if vou need bus fare…"

"That's okay, I found a little money in my pockets." A little money? Beetlejuice had left her the better part of four hundred dollars, as she'd discovered, upon inspecting said pockets. "I can pay you back for the phone call, gas maybe, for picking me up…" Jacques quickly made an excuse, clearing the dishes, almost before she'd finished hers.

Ginger, by this point, was already making excuses as well, this time as to why she had to leave. "Rehearsals, sugar! I got this nifty little part… And well, you know what they say, there are no small parts, just small entertainers!" And before Lydia knew it, she was alone with Jacques.

The skeleton was not in such a hurry to leave, though there was no doubt that the house would be decidedly empty, if Beetlejuice chose to make a visit at some point. Which was probably just as well. Lydia figured that the best thing was to leave first, to avoid any more awkward silences.

It wasn't that it bothered her so much, she was pretty much okay with the way things were going to turn out, but Jacques… He was a genuinely nice guy. And a _gentleman_, to boot. He probably figured he was being a coward, not speaking up in some effort to save her from herself…

"See you later, Jacques!" She noted, probably far too cheerily. She couldn't help it, she was in a good mood. Her planets were aligning, or whatever crap. She just wished this hadn't worked out so badly for the two of them.

"Mizz Lydia!" Jacques said suddenly, just when it seemed that he wasn't going to offer anything, not even a goodbye. She paused, hand on the door, so close to escaping… And turned, with a resigned twist to her lips. Jacques of course looked very serious, and also understandably hesitant. "I… I vas intent to save vou, Mizz Lydia," He noted after a moment, as if the words shamed him, "And in zee end, eet ees vou, who are forced to save me. I- I am zo zorry… Vou must think so, lee-tle of me…"

Lydia found herself completely at a loss for words. Her first instinct was to just, she didn't know, hug him or something, and tell him everything would be all right. Of course in her case, that was pretty much the absolute worst thing she could do… "Jacques," It came out as a murmur, fond, gentle, and sad, "You have been brave and noble and selfless. I'm, sorry it turned around and kicked you in the ass so bad."

"Please, please don't change being wonderful, just because of me."

A thick laugh, as Jacques shook his head, still bent over dishes he'd finished washing some point ago. "On zee contrary, Mizz Lydia… Vou give these poor bones 'ope. If such as vour Beatle-joose can find zomething vithin 'imself to redeem…Zis neitherworld, she may not be so lost as I 'ave feared. And if one such as vourself can ztand bevore zis old skeleton, against such a one… I 'ave no regrets, being zee gentle-skeleton 'oo did try to save vou."

A pause, following this, and then softly, "I am zorry, Mizz Lydia… Zat I could not save you." And this of course, was his real shame… Not that he hadn't been able to before, but that he wasn't going to try again. It had to go against everything he believed of himself.

But Beetlejuice… Well, there was nothing to be done of it. "But you did save me." She whispered, not sure if she really wanted him to hear, when she knew her words wouldn't make much sense. "Everything's going to be all right now. I know it." But he wouldn't believe those words. He wouldn't understand that the last thing she ever wanted, was to be saved from her best friend.

So she left him there, without another word. He would have been a good friend… But she wasn't giving Beetlejuice up for anything. No matter what.

--------------------------------

He nursed his drink, as he had been for the better part of the last two hours. He had no intention of letting the heady liquor go, well, to his head. He was just killing time. Bereft of his favorite black and white suit, a narrow brimmed hat pulled down to shadow his features, any other telltale feature buried in the shapeless coat. Waiting for the right guy to enter the bar. It could be one of several. Which one didn't matter at this point. He'd find the one he was looking for.

Subtlety had never been one of Beetlejuice's strong suits, that didn't mean he couldn't call on it, when the incentive was right. So he sipped his tall drink, ankles crossed, gazing off at seemingly nothing. The picture of someone drowning his sorrows… He'd been in the bar for the better part of three hours. So far, no one had paid him so much as one glance, much less two. He could be patient… This wasn't just about revenge anymore. This was about getting what was his.

Of course it was only a matter of time. He'd fully expected it to take days, willing to make his own luck, as he usually did, only to have his prey dropped not twenty feet from his lap as the heavy iron door swung open, and the massive rolling shape made its way in. There was nothing special about him. Nothing that marked him as the one Beetlejuice had been waiting for. But he'd long made a point of knowing who was who in the neitherworld… And it was all Beetlejuice could do not to smile.

Completely unassuming, the guy wore none of the flamboyant robes suited to his station, walked with none of the self importance that the sort usually did. He was a brown skinned toad, with a squat forehead, thick stubby fingers, and large wet eyes. His appearance said that this was only the most recent of many bars he'd been frequenting of late… Drowning his fear in neitherworld liquor.

Not a bad idea, when you've recently made enemies with the neitherworld's most dangerous poltergeist… Unless said poltergeist happens to know one of your favorite spots to drink.

The best part of the whole thing of course, was that the guy was setting himself up. True, this particular fool had the ability to drink like a fish, but so much the better. Let him drink all he wanted, let him get good and drunk, and make Beetlejuice's job that much easier. There'd be plenty of time for him to sober up later…

But if Beetlejuice was going to be here a few more hours, he needed another drink.

--------------------------------

Lydia had never experienced anything quite like riding the neitherworld bus… It seemed to her that half the given dead must be on it as well, at any given time. She was sandwiched between dozens of bodies, pressed so tightly that it was good she didn't need to breathe, because she simply wasn't able to.

On her left, a man who'd apparently died of overeating, his gut pressed rather unpleasantly into her face, with god only knew what moving around inside it. To her right, a woman with an ice-pick through her head, who'd apparently never seen cause to remove it. Just before her, two people, heavens knew why, sewn together, having an animated discussion about needlework. The rest she simply couldn't see. Too many walls of flesh.

Thank goodness no one smelled bad… Which in retrospect, seemed a little odd, as everyone there was dead…

It took a feat resembling nothing so much as contortionism to wrestle herself to the door when her stop was announced, she was pretty sure she'd stepped on someone in the process, but didn't have time to look back or apologize. If she didn't get off, now, she'd be miles from her stop before her next chance came.

Then of course, she slid in something, fell to the floor, and was the one trying not to get stepped on, as she crawled amid the myriad of limbs to reach the doors, and just before they closed, falling out onto the cold concrete.

She wanted to lay there, a little dazed, her hand throbbing from where someone had nearly crushed it, trying not to wonder what she'd slipped in, but such small mercies weren't allowed. She was forced to stumble to her feet, quickly, to avoid being stepped on again, this time by a crowd of businessmen packed into a small group like sardines, hurrying down the sidewalk like one crushed entity, never mind that there was no one else in sight.

Her head reeling a little, Lydia swore to herself then and there, never to take the bus again. A cab, maybe. Walking even. But never the bus.

Still a little groggy on her feet, Lydia made her way to the door of the Freaky Ice-Scream Shop, and had one bizarre moment of hilarity when she saw the sign proudly proclaiming that the Chef's Hand had given the place three fingers… Only no one had ever quite gotten around to changing said chef's picture, from when Beetlejuice had altered it, so many years ago. So said chef stood there proudly, flipping off the world with a broad grin on his face.

_Everything in the neitherworld changes so slowly… I guess that includes me now, too._ She pushed open the door, to be met by a small metallic tinkle, and a rush of cool, sweet smelling air. She suddenly had an intense craving for eye-scream, even though she'd only come here because it was the most familiar place she knew. _Let's see… One thousand, seven hundred, and seventy-three flavors…_ And no longer limited by what a living body could tolerate. _Which one to choose_?

In the end though, she settled on one she knew well, sloppy fudge with coffee crumble. She waited her turn in line, not really noticing how many people were watching her, an unhappy set to their eyes. She didn't really notice how utterly unwelcome she was in fact, until she reached the counter, and the woman behind it, if she could be called that, gave her quite possibly the nastiest look she'd ever received.

Deciding that the best route was simply to pretend she didn't notice, Lydia ordered her eye-scream, even managed to put a smile on her face while doing so, despite the haggard state she felt in after that bus ride. After all, as she reminded herself yet again, she had reason to be in a good mood. The only man she'd ever loved, was starting to love her again. After this, nothing could keep them apart.

But the woman, not yet moving to get her sweet, just continued to stare, the moles on her lips twisted up into an unpleasant connect the dot. "Suppose you'll be paying for it, then?" She prompted suddenly, more than a little sarcasm to her tone. "Suppose without that madman with you, you've got no choice, do you? Ought to take advantage of the situation, make you pay for all the eye screams you've had over the years… Oh, but then he might find out about it, mightn't he?"

Lydia wasn't quite sure what she was talking about, but supposed it wasn't out of the question, that Beetlejuice had been bullying the shop into giving them free sweets all these years. She kept a close eye on the woman, suddenly suspecting that if she didn't, her eye scream might arrive spit on, but the woman was good to her job, and made no such attempt. She didn't however, stop giving Lydia her dirtiest look possible, as she pushed the dish across to her.

Lydia paid her three dollars, not quite able to shake the sense now, that every eye there was on her. But she took her treat, which held all of seven scoops, a fact she'd always loved, and dutifully took the same spot she always did, which as always, was empty. And she pointedly paid no mind to those staring.

It really wasn't that hard, once she started eating. Neitherworld chocolate, in her estimation, had always been the most wonderful tasting thing in the world, and the thick sludge that topped her eye-scream, chocolate eye scream, was also chocolate, thick enough to cling to a spoon held upside down, dark and rich, and filled with tiny granules of something super sweet. Nothing, she was quite pleased to note, like any living world version.

_I could have died just for the chocolate,_ she mused, sucking a wad of the sludge off her spoon, before going in for another bite. _God, why does anyone eat anything else?_

Again, the tinkle of the door, and she looked up absently, utterly unfazed to see what looked like a fully grown man with a small child protruding from his chest. Conjoined twins, she figured. Though she was a bit shaky on the details, since one had obviously far outlived the other. In life, they must have been separated, in death, not so much so. But didn't neitherworld children usually age?

"I'll live here a dozen centuries," She noted under her breath, turning back to her dessert, "And never figure out how this place works." But that was fine. If there was one thing the neitherworld wasn't, it was dull. Good thing too, since this was her eternity…

Eternity. Now there was a hell of a big word. Spoon still clasped between her lips, she lidded her eyes, and pondered on that word, but for the afterlife of her, she just couldn't grasp it. Oh well, eternity was just one day at a time, after all… And it wasn't like she'd be alone. Not anymore…

---------------------------------

"Urrr…" The toad-man tried to lift his head, and evidently found, much to his consternation, that he couldn't. For that matter, he couldn't so much as twitch a finger. But when he did manage to roll his eyes up, he saw something that made him look suddenly, deathly ill.

"You know buddy, too much booze ain't good for you." Beetlejuice noted, still crouched on his toes on the chair across from him, balanced like some otherworldly fear. "Makes you let down your defenses. Slows your reaction time. Real stupid decision, when you got someone like me, gunning for you." Through it all, he sounded terribly, utterly calm. "But hell, I guess a smart guy like you would know _that_…"

Gurgling through a hole in his throat, the magus tried to summon the words of power that would free him, trying to lift his fingers to cast a sutra, only to find both efforts a miserable failure. The reason for the first became apparent, as the poltergeist lifted his hand, with a slow grin, to reveal something long, slippery, and bloody, dangling from his fingers. "Looking for this?" He prompted softly, before pulling a slender gleaming knife from his pocket, and with one massive strike, pinning the magus's tongue to the wooden table between them.

A cry of agony fell from the man's throat, as the pain from his separated organ ripped through his jaws, even unattached. Again he tried twisting his fingers, only to find himself bound by nothing he could see, not letting him lift an arm, not letting his raise his head.

Beetlejuice stood slowly, in the chair, until his head was lost to the sight of the royal mage, only to hop down lightly, stroll over to him in a companionable way, and hook his arm about the other's shoulder. The magus meanwhile, couldn't take his eyes from his trapped organ. "Now see, there's a certain way power works in the neitherworld… Stop me in you already know this. Now, there's inborn power, like mine…" And he let a jolt of his juice rip through the man's body, making him scream again, "And then there's taught magics, like the kind the king surrounds himself with. Like yours."

"Now, normally, that would leave us at a standoff," He went on smoothly, drawing away from him again, "If it weren't for one little thing." He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, where the man could see it, no more than two inches across, and five down. Runes were inscribed all across the face of it. "See, I got bored a few hundred years ago, and decided to learn some of your magic for myself."

He slapped this slip of paper down on the table before him, and this time a completely different type of magic ripped through his captive, making him scream, twist, and otherwise fail to break free.

"You may wonder," Beetlejuice went on, showing every sharp tooth now, "What any of my problems with the king have to do with you. See now, this is where my studies come in. When I first realized that the _king _was the one who took my memories, I pretty much gave up hope. But then, I remembered! The spell to take someone's memory is… Shall we say, difficult to achieve. It takes centuries of practice." His hand on the magus's shoulder again, making the man flinch. "Practice, that I'm thinking, the king never bothered with. Why bother, when he has the best wizard's in the land at his beck and call?"

Beetlejuice patted him absently, drawing away, and pushing the table aside. He then drew the chair right up to his victim, but didn't yet take a seat, still pacing. "Now see, that makes my job a little easier, because it means that it's a magus with my memories, not a king." A significant glance. "Maybe it's you. Either way, the king can't tip his hand, which one. Apparently, the apple doesn't rot far from the tree, when it comes to thinking things through."

"Which brings us back to you." And now Beetlejuice rubbed his hands together, grinning with what could be called nothing less than anticipation. "Because see, you robe wearers? You can't keep secrets from each other worth shit. So chances are, you're either the one I'm looking for, or you know who is. Which for me, is a good thing. For you?" He clicked his tongue in a regretful way. "Not so much so."

"Ah, but don't worry," Beetlejuice added, leaving his line of sight for a moment, "I know the oaths you've taken, the vows you've sworn, never to betray the crown, or your fellow magi. And I understand, completely. I do. That's why I'm not asking you yet."

The sound of wheels, of metallic things shifting, and Beetlejuice came back into sight, pushing a surgical tray, smiling cheerfully. All his favorite tools and toys were placed precisely across the surface. He set it carefully to the side, just within sight, and sat back down in the chair across from the wizard. He took the man by the chin, lifting his head ever so marginally, just enough to see the mad, determined glint in the poltergeist's eyes. "Not yet." He said again, reaching over to the tray, and lifting his first instrument.

"No, I'm going to ask you in three days…"

--------------------------------


	12. Memories

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

I think this will make you happy. But I still have the epilogue to write, so don't start breathing too comfortably yet... Man, I hope this answers a couple of questions too. Enjoy! (I also hope it's not corny... Tell me it isn't, okay?)

----------------

It wasn't so much that she was unwilling to wait, however long it took for Beetlejuice to sort out whatever it was that needed sorting out… However, after one day spent at the Freaky Eye-Scream Shop, long after most of the patrons would have rather she left, and a second day spent at Jacques and Ginger's house, alone, watching of all things, Neitherworld TV… Lydia was bored.

And this would be why she was standing in a corner of the nearest gas station, studiously bent over a rather worn map of the local neitherworld area. About twenty miles to the west, she could amazingly, make out roads she recognized, simply by having walked them a dozen or so times with Beetlejuice. More importantly, while the names of the roads meant nothing to her, the sloppily printed name of the group of trees they passed through, did_. __The Neitherwoods._

Well, that was just perfect, wasn't it? She'd had no idea she was so close… So she stood there, while impatient customers moved around her, grunting and giving her dirty looks. A scrap of yellowed parchment in one hand, a stubby graphite pencil in the other. And she figured out just how far exactly she would have to walk, to get from her present position, to where she was going.

In the end, it looked like if she started walking now, she'd make it just in time for the big event. There was no way in hell she was taking a neitherworld bus again. Of course, that did leave the question of how she'd get back, but for now, she stubbornly ignored that worry, rolling up her map, grabbing a big bag of crispy coated crickets, and a large water bottle, and paid for all three up front.

She was a little nervous, admittedly. She'd only been to the place a couple of different times with Beetlejuice, and he'd never been happy about it, despite the breathtaking view. But she hadn't been there in years, and more importantly, she hadn't been there since she'd died. She wanted to see what the best sunset in the neitherworld looked like, now that she actually belonged there.

As long as she stuck to the roads, as long as she was quiet, and as long as she didn't dawdle, she should be fine. She clipped the snack bag to her belt, tugged the hook of the water bottle into her pocket, and hid both beneath her poncho. The map she kept rolled up excitedly in her fist, as she faced the world outside the gas station, and the road that led, albeit indirectly, to Sandworm Peak. Maybe she'd spend the night out there… The stars had to be gorgeous. And as long as she was completely quiet, and stayed off the sand…

If Beetlejuice had been there, he might have noted that sometimes it could be a bad thing, that not much scared the girl… Even what should. But Beetlejuice wasn't there. And Lydia headed off to Sandworm Peak excitedly, alone…

--------------------------------

The heavy knocking on the den of the high mages was intermediate, sort of halting. When the doorman swung it open, he was greeted by the sight of the toad-like mage, considerably the worse for wear. Blood dribbled in rivulets down his face, his body was criss-crossed with new scars of various depths, and it looked as if some time recently, someone had taken a blunt object to several of the fingers of his left hand.

However, the mage didn't say a word, just stumbling past the guard on what seemed to be a dislocated hip, torn muscles hanging out the back of his calf, and considered the Magus Hall through bleary, unfocused eyes. With a grunt, and a massive effort of sheer will, the man began moving again, making his way down the dimly lit halls. All eyes were on him, but as he made no pause to explain, or ask for help, it was decided that none of the lesser magi could risk angering him further… Which was, convenient.

Blood followed his progress down the hall, his features oddly devoid of emotion, his eyes dull and glassy, as if he might be in shock. He stopped only when he reached a door of dark maple wood, with various enchantments inscribed across its surface, forbidding entrance to any not proficient in their dangerous magics.

The toad-man barely hesitated, drawing a slip of paper free of his robe, inscribed with his own blood, and laid it against the wood, murmuring the proper incantation under his breath. Like a mist, the door dissolved, and the beaten magi made his way inside, before finally falling to his knees, and to all appearances, losing consciousness.

Staring in shock for only an instant, the high magi whose room he'd intruded on was quickly on his feet, sealing the door again, this time with the strongest wards he could summon, in case whatever had done this to his friend might still be following. Then he fell to his knees beside the broken man, tipping his head back, trying to find some trace of unlife left in the other's eyes.

And the toad-man grinned slowly, his eyes glinting with a shade of green not his own, as Beetlejuice's voice emerged from his puppet's throat, noting softly, "Possession's nine-tenth's of the law, buddy."

The mage lurched to his feet, stumbling back in horror as he realized the monster he'd just sealed himself in with. But already Beetlejuice was ripping, physically, out of the other magi's body, chunks of spirit flesh falling away as he split him open like a worm in a cocoon. Possession was never an easy feat, when your host was dead too… However by that point, the guy had learned not to challenge Beetlejuice's will… Right up to the point where he found hope again in the stronger magi's presence.

Which immediately made him expendable. "And here I'd been thinking of letting the guy live, too." Beetlejuice mumbled, drawing a handful of more slips from seemingly out of nowhere, and flinging them across the distance to cling to the other magicker's face. "Sort of a thank you, for services rendered…"

The man before him was screaming, though any such sounds were completely lost on anyone on the other side of the door, his body twisting in convulsive fashions at the combination of both learned and inborn powers, ripping through him at once. Beetlejuice knew he had a short time to take the guy down, before his own dangerous powers came into play… The tricky part being of course, that if he killed him, the memories he was keeping in his brain would also be gone, this time for good. And he wasn't sure yet if that was what he wanted.

"See, I know this is the tricky part, 'cause I've done this before." He noted, licking the back of yet another incantation, and sticking it squarely between the guy's eyes, sending him to his knees. "I gotta cut this crystal about the size of a pencil eraser out of your frigging undead brain, and I gotta do it without killing you. Last time I did this, I was careless, and only got about half of my memories back…" He drew a heavy, long blade from inside his suit, looking like nothing so much as a machete. "So this time, I'm gonna use a more delicate touch."

With one massive swipe, Beetlejuice's weapon had split the magus's skull open, cleaving through half of the dull pink tissue within. Another, practiced swipe, even before the guy could take it what had just happened to him, completely cut away a section of the other's skull, making his search that much easier. Then, tossing the blade aside, he pulled a set of chopsticks out of his pockets, grinned, and noted nonchalantly, "Now I gotta warn you, this part is _really _going to hurt…"

Struggling to lift his hand, the mage hadn't more than raised it halfway when he felt the sharp wooden implements pierce his brain. His mouth parted pathetically, silently, and his eyes rolled briefly back into his head, before through sheer force of will, and a sudden yank of his beaten body, he managed to grab Beetlejuice's face in his nearly limp hand.

Before Beetlejuice could even sneer at the useless attempt to fight him off, the guy's true purpose became apparent. With a rush of power reminiscent of a breach of the sound barrier in his skull, they came rushing back… Every day, every second, of the time with Lydia he'd lost. It struck him like a physical thing, and he fell back limply, as the self that had grown to know her these past couple weeks, collided securely and painfully, with someone who'd worshipped the girl for years… And the two halves of himself came to a violent confrontation, neither one wanting anything to do with the other.

On his back, not sure how he'd gotten there, he not only relived the years he'd spent by the girl's side, watching her grow, protecting her, falling more and more deeply in love with her by the day, he also relived the days since he'd lost his memory of her, and faced her again. Every time he'd almost killed her. When he had killed her. When he'd taken advantage of her trust and love to seduce her after her shower. When he'd evicted her from his house. When she'd stood up to him, and told him she'd been afraid, tears shining in those beautiful dark eyes…

And then going back to the house that night… His mind was halted just short of this memory, as a concussive blast exploded along the right side of his face, blinding him, peeling away flesh and muscle, as the magi took advantage of his moment of weakness.

Furious, heart wrenched, Beetlejuice paid no mind to the pain, rolling back to his feet and putting everything he had into one massive blast to the guy's head. All that anger, all that grief, even guilt, something the poltergeist had rarely felt before, released in one violent twist of power… Making him vulnerable hadn't been a good idea at all, though the magi never had time to reflect on this fact, as his headless body crumpled in a lifeless heap.

Beetlejuice, on his feet, staggering. His mind spinning as he fought to make peace with the two halves of himself that were being forced to reconcile. He'd taken her… Her first time, _his_ first time with her… It wasn't that it hadn't meant anything, but it hadn't meant what it should! None of it had meant what it should!

A massive heave of his guts, and he was on his knees, his stomach twisting and demanding emptying, even though he hadn't eaten in days. Blood and bile trickled past his lips as his body convulsed helplessly, the pain in his mind taking its punishment out on his body. Half his face still torn away, and he didn't even care. All he could think of was Lydia. Lyds…

_Lyds… Babes… _He had to get to her. He had to fucking get to her! He was staggering towards the door before the thoughts had really even taken form, through the portal left open by the magi's death, down the corridor, and into a hall of mages, who this time, knew exactly who he was.

He didn't really remember fighting them off. He just remembered knowing that he had to do whatever it took to get past that far door, where he'd be able to teleport himself to the girl once more. Hold her in his arms. Beg her, pride be damned, to still love him… If he'd been lost before, now he was utterly beyond saving, and all that mattered to him was being with his babes again…

His body was pretty badly shredded by the time he stepped out into the late afternoon air. As if in some sort of penance for the damage he'd inflicted to get there, paid as he left. Truth be told, he could have healed himself in an instant, even with his powers as badly drained as they were now, but he didn't even notice the pain. He was already moving through nothing, desperate to reach Lydia's side… Only to find her bed, and her room, when he finally reached his goal, empty.

For a long, long moment, he stood there, staring at her broken bed, the memories rushing over him once again. And for a long moment, that was all he could do. Then slowly, he turned, and stared at the door separating her room from the rest of the house. She had to be out there. She had to.

He made his way towards the door in an almost methodical way, phasing through it, rather than opening it. But this last little bit of magic hit him in the gut, hard, and before he could take in the fact that she wasn't here either, he was already falling to the carpet, unconscious.

---------------------------------

It was maybe the last sight either of them could have expected, on coming home. Ginger had, by chance, locked herself out of the house, and had to wait for Jacques to get there to let her in, so they both entered together, and in almost the same instant, saw the poltergeist lying on their carpet, beaten to a bloody pulp. And neither one knew exactly how to react.

So after a short, quiet discussion, Ginger went in the kitchen to prepare dinner, and Jacques pulled up a chair to watch the poltergeist 'sleep.' This however, quickly grew tiring, and brought up the question of just where the girl was… Presumably, she was the reason he'd come. Unless, by some miracle, she was the one who'd managed to do this to him, which seemed at the least, unlikely.

Reluctantly leaving Beetlejuice where he lay, Jacques began looking for some sign of the girl, or something that might tell him where she was. Ginger peeked out, considering him with a frown. "Whatcha doin', hon?" She prompted, trying to ignore for the moment, the dangerous killer currently unconscious in their house.

"Look-eeng for something zat vill tell us where Mizz Lydia 'as gotten to." He murmured under his breath, checking every available surface for a note, which would come in very handy when the poltergeist woke up. "Did vou zee any-zing?"

Ginger disappeared again, presumably to resume cooking, but returned a moment later with a bit of clean white paper in her hand, turning it over to reveal a hastily scribbled message. Jacques accepted the paper, read it, and frowned, unable to make heads or tails of what the girl had been trying to say. "Gone to… Vhat? Ging-er, vhy does Mizz Lydia leave us such a note?"

Ginger took the note back, pursed her large mouth, and read the note aloud. "Gone to watch one hell of a sunset. Don't wait up. Lydia." She shook her head slowly, just as puzzled as her friend. "What do you suppose that's supposed to mean, sugar?"

"Lyds…" The groan from behind them made them both tense, and turn to see Beetlejuice braced on his arms, for all appearances staring intently at the mottled red and black of their carpet. "Babes… Where are you?"

"Um, Mr. Beetle- uh, sir?" Ginger scurried across to him before Jacques could stop her, holding the note out as far as she could reach. "I think this is for you, mister."

Beetlejuice lifted his head, regarded her utterly without recognition, and after a moment, without a word, took the note from her hand. Immediately Ginger retreated, while he sat up slowly, squinting his eyes, trying to focus on the words with his bleary vision. Considerately, Jacques turned on a light, being the nice guy that he was. He did not however, expect Beetlejuice's mumbled, "Thanks."

As he finally seemed to make sense of the words, he frowned, tilted his head back, rested his torn chin on his fist, and read it again. Twice.

And then he paled. "Fuck, babes…" He whispered, his eyes suddenly dark with fear. "I wasn't gone that long… What the hell are you thinking?" He'd never pegged the girl as suicidal, not since she'd met him anyway. But off to Sandworm Peak alone, when she knew that was the only sure way to get exorcised? And 'don't wait up?'

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck…" He stumbled to his feet, ran his fingers through his bloody mess of hair, and squeezed his eyes shut, frantically trying to focus on the spot where he prayed, whoever a guy like him prayed to, to find her still alive.

And like that, he was gone.

--------------------------------

The sunset was beautiful… Even long after the sun itself was gone from view, the sky was still painted in rich reds and purples. Even as the first brilliant stars appeared, looking down at her like gentle, shining eyes, still the sky whirled with color.

So Lydia, as she'd suspected, was in no hurry to leave. Walk back through the Neitherwoods in the dark? She'd rather take her chances with the sandworms. She was lying back on the sand-worn peak, regarding the heavens with a lidded, content look, and listening to the sound of the sandworm calls, low and haunting and rich. It felt like being at the edge of a vast sea, listening to the cries of creatures who hunted beyond sight… albeit it creatures far more dangerous than the typical singing creatures of the sea. Hunters.

But as long as she stayed on the peak, as long as she was still, and didn't so much as breathe, they had no way of knowing she was there. Not breathing was a little uncomfortable, but not enough to merit leaving. Not even as the last of the colored lights faded away, and left her alone beneath the three moons, and the endless stars.

The thing was, she'd plotted it all out fairly well. She'd be fine until morning, when she'd walk back, none the worse for wear. What a thing to be able to brag to Beetlejuice about… Something this big, that she'd done alone. She smiled, since that made no sound, and regarded the heavens, even now beyond reach. This thought in turn, made something tickle briefly at the back of her mind, before she let it go, content with not worrying over it. This was where she was meant to be, not some heaven. Any thought of anything else was just a dream.

Suddenly a flash of light drew her from her reverie, making her sit up, a little too quickly for safety. Peering over the side of the precipice, she caught sight of a slim shadow, illuminated just a moment later by a twist of green light… And she saw stripes. And a moment later, the high, panicked cry… "Lyds! _Lyds!_"

She started to open her mouth to warn him, when the familiar nickname hit her with a force that drove the breath from her lungs. Lyds? He hadn't called her that since before he'd lost his memories… Lyds? _Lyds_!

"Beetlejuice!" It was a cry, his full name, and his head spun as he twisted to take her in, safe and sound, her voice shaking from the force of the cry… Momentarily forgetting about the sandworms. "B! Up here!"

But she'd leaned forward too far, and now lost her balance, tumbling over the side of the peak with an insane moment of surrealness, before hitting on her side, and sliding down the long smoothed stone. She didn't even care, when she hit the sand, she struggled to her feet, and lurched through the heavy drifts towards her best friend, her best friend who was _back_.

"Lyds!" It was a roar, a panicked sound. "Go back! Get out of here!" She ignored his protests, falling into his arms. She didn't pause to think on his sound of pain, she just lifted her head to kiss him, happy, relieved. He remembered… That was all that mattered. Life or death, that was all that mattered.

But now he was twisting her away from him, staggering back towards the peak. She didn't know why he didn't have the strength to fly, and couldn't see well enough in the resumed darkness to know why his kiss had tasted like blood. "You remembered…" She whispered, making him pause briefly in his struggle to get them to safety.

"I remembered." He agreed quietly, grabbing her in one arm, and giving her a hard, desperate hug. "Now let's get out of here, before we both get ourselves killed… again."

It was only at this point that Lydia even remembered the threat of the sandworms, her eyes growing wide as she too quickly helped them make their way to an escape. He was weak, could barely stand… She didn't understand what was wrong with him, but she knew this; if she had to, she would carry him. "Here, give me your arm!" She wrenched it over her shoulder, making him grunt in pain, though he offered not a word of protest, and together the two made their way through the treacherous sand…

Not fast enough. With a sudden, booming cry, the sand shifted around their feet, the haunting roar the hunter far closer this time than before. Maybe right next to them. But they couldn't see anything. Both froze in mid-step, not daring to move, lest they draw the worm to them even faster. Holding their breaths, waiting for it to lose the scent.

But of course it wouldn't lose the scent, not with Beetlejuice covered in blood, leaving it behind with every step. As the sands parted, not twenty feet away, and the looming shape rose out of the darkness, Beetlejuice used his powers to summon a ball of light, and fling it at the beast, intending to blind it. Maybe make it think twice about going after prey that could fight back.

It was all a bluff of course. Beetlejuice couldn't fight off a sandworm at the height of his powers, much less in the condition he was in now. All the light did was give Lydia a clear, startling view, of the severity of his wounds. Her choked cry did not go unnoticed. Beetlejuice turned as the sandworm came on, tucking her into his arms, dropping one bloody kiss on her forehead, and saying the words he'd never seen need to say before that moment. "I love you, babes… I'm sorry…"

And then the sandworm was on them, and… And power ripped through his, like a massive living thing, igniting every nerve in his body with a magic of a sort he'd only felt once before. Without thinking, without questioning it he turned, and hurtled the most powerful blast he could at their attacker, freezing briefly in disbelief as it staggered, visibly, and then collapsed to the sand, unconscious.

There was no time to waste though, more were coming, and wherever this new power had come from, it wouldn't be enough to fight them all off. He grabbed Lydia in his arms, wrenched them both into the air, and with a thought, teleported them both to safety, a hundred miles or more away, back into his own home sweet home. Something that, like his attack on the sandworm, he couldn't have conceived being capable of a moment before.

And then, as he let Lydia go, he paused in surprise, staring at her. She glowed blue… Power rippling off her in waves, lights and hues suited for an aurora borealis, her eyes shining so brilliantly that they could have caught flame. And he remembered, just for an instant, that night in Prince Vince's castle, and the moment he'd felt this same insane surge of power…

Beetlejuice grabbed her with both hands, pulling her against him, and the light enveloped them both. It was like his power, but it came from her. He didn't know if she could use it, but he could. She amplified his power by a dozen times, just being there with him…

_It couldn't have been anyone else, Lyds… I couldn't have loved anyone else… From the very first night, you echoed me_… Out loud, he just whispered, "Babes, think you can forgive me?" As an answer, she just sobbed, nodded her head, and burrowed deeper into his arms. He started to move to kiss her, remembered his current state, and grimaced. With a thought, he drew on the power she was sending out in waves, and healed himself, as well as any wounds she might have had.

And then he tipped her head back, with infinite gentleness, and kissed her soft mouth, tasting tears. It wasn't just that she had him back, it was that _he_ had _her_ back too… When he broke the kiss, he dropped her lips to her ear, and whispered thickly, "I love you, babes. I'll tell you as many times as you like… I _love _you." Which just made Lydia cry and laugh, and kiss him again.

_I'll make it up to you, babes… Just give me the rest of forever… I'll never make you cry again. I promise._

_--------------------------------_


	13. Soft

Beetlejuice, Lydia, the neitherworld… They don't belong to me. I just love them so much I want to take them in both arms, rip open my chest cavity, and stuff them inside forever, right next to my heart. Of course, if they were mine, just look what I'd do to them… But that being said, please don't sue me, okay?

----------------

And with this chapter, I break 300,000 words on this site... Yay! Now, okay, only two reviews last chapter? It was the climax people! I know you're reading! :P Oh well, here you go anyway... It's very short, but seemed like the best way to end this.

----------------

It was a beautiful day to be buried. In fact, if Lydia had ever really given it much thought, she probably would have decided long ago that she wanted a spring funeral… Late spring, yes, but it still had that smell. Of new things. Of starting fresh.

She watched the guests, few of whom she actually knew, mill about, shooting glances at the coffin, and whispering. They didn't speak of her, she noticed, so much as how she died. In fact, she didn't think anyone there actually knew her… But word had spread fast in her hometown, and now it looked like half the people there had turned up, to watch her remains put under.

The two most notably missing from the proceedings, she couldn't say were really missed. Not by her anyway, though many people did wonder aloud at their absence from their own daughter's funeral. She on the other hand, knew that their gossip was the very reason… Her parents never liked to be the center of unwelcome attention, and even with the chance to say goodbye to their only child, they would rather sit this public spectacle out.

Of course, they didn't know that she was actually standing there, some distance to the side, Beetlejuice's arms wrapped around her tightly from behind. Watching, with an odd sense of finality, as the wooden tomb holding her spent mortal shell, was lowered into the earth. It didn't bother her, it felt like something she'd simply outgrown, and put aside. But Beetlejuice was noticeably tense, his arms holding onto her like he was afraid she would slip away.

If she could turn, she was sure his lips would be pressed into a thin line, his gaze deliberately noncommittal, as he observed the consequences of his actions, only the week before. After gaining his memories back, he'd fallen into a sort of funk, looking at her guiltily whenever she demanded his attention, though never protesting when she stole kisses, or climbed in his lap. She had the feeling that guilt was a new emotion for him, and he didn't like it. But not once did he complain. And gradually, he'd been the one that started kissing her again, the way it should be.

But for now, he didn't break the silence as the preacher droned on about stuff he really knew nothing about, both what was waiting for her, and even who she had been. He spoke of a breach left in her absence, when she could be certain that no one but her parents would even notice she was gone. And they hadn't even shown up. The only thing he was remotely right about, was that she was in a better place… Though certainly, it was nothing like he described it.

Then the first, ceremonial shovelfuls of earth, before the backhoe interrupted the solemn proceedings, and tucked her body in deep. They didn't even wait for the guests to disperse… If anything, she sensed that this was the reason some of them had come. To _see_ her buried. It made her smile. So much for being the only one who would have come up with the vampire theory… It was nice to know that people with a whole lifetime of experience behind them, were just as 'irrational' as she was.

Even after the fresh sod was rolled over the top of her grave, rather preemptively she thought, still people lingered, giving each other uneasy glances, like someone there knew that a ghost was watching them. Well, ghosts, now. No one came forward to lay flowers at her grave. No one cried. People started gossiping again, moving in tight groups, like it was more a social function, than a funeral.

Lydia sighed, squirming a little in her lover's embrace, and he chuckled, dropping a light kiss to her hair. "This is boring!" She hissed back at him, though she warmed briefly under his kiss. "Why do we have to be here? I already know I'm dead!"

"Enjoy the living world sun, babes." He murmured against the back of her neck, making the little hairs there prickle and rise at his cold breath. "Gonna be awhile before we got reason to come back up here again."

"Good," She grumbled, lidding her eyes against said sun, "It's too damn bright up here anyway." Just the same, she didn't suggest leaving again. This was closure, in some way she didn't understand, not for herself, but for him. So she could put up with it.

It was over an hour before the last of the 'guests' drifted away, leaving the two of them alone. Even the preacher leaving the place of uneasy energy, where two ghosts watched. And finally, Beetlejuice cleared his throat, letting her go, and stepping forward… She didn't know where he'd gotten the slender red rose, tied in a spider web ribbon, but he knelt, and laid it across the new grave with something of a sense of solemnity.

Then though, he ruined the whole thing by laughing, and beckoning her over with a grin. When she obeyed, perplexed, he just indicated her gravestone, looking infinitely amused. Curious herself now, Lydia dropped on the new sod covering her old body, and read the inscription. Her name, the dates of her birth and death… And under this, in elegant letters;

_In Death as in Life,_

_A Mystery._

It didn't make her laugh though, as he might have expected… Instead it made her oddly warm, that her parents had actually chosen an engraving that suited her, instead of simply, _Beloved Daughter_. Maybe they'd come by later to say goodbye. Maybe even leave some flowers of their own. Too bad she wouldn't be here anymore to see it.

Beetlejuice offered her his hand, helping her to her feet, a look of vague amusement still in place. "Guess we left these breathers something to talk about, eh babes?" His hand slipped around her waist, in what had become second nature, only for him to pause, his eyebrows flying up somewhere into his hair. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. Picked you up something… To celebrate the day, you know?"

It was an utterly odd thing to do, getting her a gift to celebrate her burial, or would have been, if it were anyone but Beetlejuice. Maybe even if it were anyone but her. But he let her go, reached into the recesses of his coat, and frowned, making a show of not being able to find what he was looking for. Lydia just grinned eagerly, waiting… When wasn't a good time to receive one of _Beetlejuice's_ presents?

"So I swung by the Pet Cemetery this morning," He noted suddenly, green eyes fixated sharply on her, his mouth creeping into a smirk, "Figured I'd dig you up some company, those days I gotta be out. But, uh…" He pulled the scrawny grey kitten out of his coat, no more than three weeks old, looking cold, scared, and hungry, "Think somehow I got a live one."

Lydia practically snatched the baby from him, albeit it gently, and held the delicate thing in the palm of her hands, it was so small. "Oh, B… Were there others?" She murmured, her eyebrows pressed into a worried knot.

"Not breathing." He said simply, shrugging this off like it was nothing. "Just the one. Found it next to a headstone that said, 'Percy the Python.'" He tilted his head, the eager glint in his eyes waiting for approval. "What d'you think?"

"Percy…" Lydia whispered, her voice just a breath, "Just Percy, I think." Her gaze flicked up to his. "Oh B, I love him!" The poltergeist frowned, and shifted a little, making her laugh. "Not as much as you, of course…"

This seemed to reassure him, but as she was considering the kitten again, she saw just how fragile he really was, and realized sadly that he might not survive. "Oh B, is he going to be okay?" She wrapped him in the front of her worn poncho, hoping that the material would do what she couldn't, and keep him warm. "I don't want him to die…"

"Doesn't make a difference, does it?" He frowned, then shifted once more, uncomfortably, under her gaze. "Hell, don't give me that look, I'm just saying, we can keep him either way! That's what you want, right?"

"Yes…" She agreed softly, reluctant to see the kitten's little spark of life go out, though her own had meant so little to her. "What are we going to feed him? Is there anything back home he can even eat?"

With a humphing sound, Beetlejuice reached back into his coat, and pulled out a slender white bottle, of what appeared to be milk. "Seems to like this shit okay." He noted, pushing the bottle into her free hand. "But from now on, feeding him is your deal."

Lydia blinked, and looked at the label. It read, in what could only be called spider-script, _100% Neitherworld Cat Cream- Collected From 100% Neitherworld Cats._

Well. That brought a number of questions to mind. But for now, she'd let them ride. His little tummy still seemed to be bulging from his last feeding, so they could probably take their time heading back, as long as he didn't get cold. Then she realized that not only had Beetlejuice gone to pick her out a pet, not only had he saved a kitten's life, but he'd even gone out of his way to see it got a good meal, before relinquishing responsibility to her.

She grinned at him, a sort of smile that made him frown, and narrow his eyes at her. "Now what?" He grumbled, like he expected to be berated over something. "I took care of the damn thing just fine, now it's your problem!"

Lydia just drew closer, looking up at him from warm dark eyes, peeking out from under her thick lashes, and murmured sweetly, "You really are soft, aren't you?"

Rather than any reaction she could have expected, ranging from amusement to anger, Beetlejuice just ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, gave her a tolerant look, and noted matter-of-factly, "Only for you, babes. Just keep that straight, and we'll be fine."

Nodding, satisfied by his answer, Lydia couldn't help but push it just a _little_ further. "Does that mean you're willing to share me now?" She teased. "You won't kill everyone I say hello to?" Not that she really cared as much as she supposed she probably should…

This time, the look Beetlejuice gave her was just a little more impatient. "I got you the damn cat, Lyds… I'm making an effort here, all right? Don't push it." When she just beamed up at him though, bright as anything, his sour mood couldn't last, and he draped an arm around her shoulder, turning her away from the grave. "What's say we get back to our place… Maybe pick up a few things to give it that homey feeling."

Lydia couldn't argue with that, dropping a kiss lightly on the corner of his jaw, and saying the words that would take her away from the world she'd never really belonged in anyway, maybe forever this time. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" She said it with such joy, and more strength than he ever remembered her having before, and just like she loved saying it…

_Babes… I'll never lose you again. Never. I'm yours… Forever._

_---------------------------------_


End file.
